So.... I thought I would take this opportunity to share with you our recent discovery of the Santa Fe dog park. We had heard tell of it for months... but it was always spoken of with a tinge of fear. Danger. It sounded like it may be really far away and that once we got there we all may be killed. Then we started meeting people who said it was the best dog park ever. That we HAD TO go. We finally went with Michaela and Larry a week or two ago and found it quite agreeable. So we have been going over there (it's close by) once a week or so to let Rudy peel out. The place is freakin' enormous. There is a mild element of danger for Rudy there in that most of the other dogs around are 4 times his size... and he pushes his luck with big dogs on a regular basis.
Here is a view from one vantage point in the park looking back toward town and the Sangres.
Holy crap, right? You would think that Joe Bob Millionaire would have snatched this piece of land up for himself by now eh? But no... it's for dogs. Although... I am fairly positive that the dogs could give a poop about the nice view. You can go on some serious adventures in the park, down big steep dusty hills... (please note the tiny speck at the bottom is Rudy. Also note how carefully I am descending the steep hill. See my careful, squatty posture? This is the proper way to handle this sort of situation people... take note and learn from a pro.)
Rudy made the best of pals with a lovely three legged dog (no idea what her name was) this last time. You are going to have to trust me on the three legs part, as this is the only photographic evidence of their seven legged frolicking.
I count four dog legs in that photo. There are three missing out of camera range. I will tell you what... that three legged dog could haul ass with the best of 'em. No problemo. It was quite an inspiring little episode to watch actually.
So there you have it. The dog park.
What else? Well... let's see. Today I slaved over the stove for hours making a red chile, pinto bean, potato laden dinner and then when we set out to enjoy it the potatoes tasted distinctly of mold. That was neat. Nothing like moldy tubers in your supper dish. So yeah, that was the end of that. We healed ourselves by bee lining straight to the plaza diner for a huge slab of chocolate cake with ice cream. Problem solved.