Furry portraits

I would like to take better pictures of people.  I like people.  (Do you remember that great line of Ruth Gordon’s in Harold and Maude?  “They’re my species!”)  Every now and then I get off a shot that pleases me, like the one of Betty Hoover, but I need practice.  People are reluctant to stand around waiting for me to figure out how to get the job done, so I have been practicing on the fur children.

We were having a nice evening stroll on the beach.  The light slanted becomingly, turning a soft rose as the sun set over the Leelanau Peninsula.  Miss Sadie was in a reflective mood.

The Cowboy had been in wading.  As he is quite short, he had gotten his ears wet, and his curly fur was going to ringlets.  This troubles him not at all.  He enjoys carrying home quantities of sand for me to vacuum out of the rugs. 

These photos were taken on the shoreline near Mickey’s house.  Mickey keeps golden retrievers.  He finally got rid of carpeting in favor of tile.  He is a wise man.  Maybe he knows why I cannot seem to keep the horizon level.  Perhaps I walk atilt.  But I ask you, are these dogs not upright in this picture?  And is that Bay not sliding inexorably northward as if to empty itself into the waiting Lake?  How can this be???

Ah well.  Life and photography are equally mysterious, and dogs can be a puzzle too.  It was a fine evening, and I suppose it comes as a surprise to no one that I saw it from an eccentric perspective. 

The cloudbank turned the sunset smoky.  Or maybe it was the cedar tree, smudging all heaven.  I’d like to think it’s fragrant cedar smoke, wafting its way off to another person in need of clean margins in a new day.  But I do not omit to be grateful for this one. 

Thank you for this day.  Thank you for this day.  Goodnight sun.