It wasn't much of a surprise that when Jake passed away, Maisie mourned. How long her sorrow lasted, and how deep it was, that was startling. And though at first she was loath to give up her "I am the puppy here" throne to little Walt, those days are gone.

Here's Maisie with her beloved Jake on the Hut Road in the Cove:

And here she is with Walt yesterday:

It's been a long, long time -- 18 months, to be exact -- since she has smiled like that. And look how Walt is smiling with her.


In other news, here's how they spent the better part of an hour yesterday:

And my personal favorite (it's the Tiny Labrador's back legs that get me) :

The annual Malibu Art Show was last weekend, which meant the annual influx of so many visitors that parking became (even more of) a blood sport. During one of my many loops around our downtown area in search of an empty spot, these miniature horses crossed PCH.

They stopped traffic -- literally -- as families slowed to get a better look. Just the sight of them, improbably small and adorably perfect, made everyone a bit less cranky.

He's passing out after a long morning of running around like a maniac.

She's wondering if she still has PETA on her speed dial.

Remember how this:

Became this:

And this:

Became this?

Well now it's this:

And this:

And to those of you not living on a barren subfloor with exposed plumbing and a single countertop made of a 1-by-12 balanced on a broken dishwasher, believe me, this is progress!

I really wanted to meet the beagle who inspired this bumper sticker but alas, the car, which was parked at the local grocery store, was empty.

They were probably inside buying treats for with the brilliant little dog.

My brothers and me, a long (don't ask) long time ago.

It's not like we didn't know it was possible, or even inevitable, but the sight of a series of surveyor's stakes here in the mountains, where 500 untouched acres of oaks and sycamores are up for sale, makes your heart ache.

Because this:

And this:

And him:

And them:

And this:

And these:

And, of course, these:

The Malibu Newsstand, ever ready to serve the community, offered up some royal baby names.

Sadly, Will and Kate didn't name him LeBron:

Or Lars:

And of course Walt is already taken:

Everything about the beach today, blue sea, blue sky, diving pelicans, wheeling gulls, barefoot children, briny scent, sandy sunscreen bottles, folding chairs, big, bright towels, every bit of it said summer.

We've been introducing the puppy around, to the Cove, the beach, the lake, the oaks, the shade under the table at a nice cafe. So far, Walt has been a fan of it all, smiling and glad to be here.

Yesterday, though, he lost his little mind. Whether it was the promise of rain on the wind or the scent of deer on the trail, it's hard to say, but for the entire walk the little guy was a blur, racing ahead into the unknown, then racing back to make sure his humans were still there. (We were.)

Fleet is a word that kept popping into my head, the border collie part of him swift and sure-footed. He has such a sweet spirit, this little dog, such loyalty.

And a good dose of goofiness. A seriously great dog.

You hear them before dawn, the flock of geese that passes low over the rooftops on the way to the lake. Their call has an autumn sound, and as the calendar rounds the bend past July and into August, summer suddenly doesn't seem so endless after all.

One weekend each July a group of antiques and collectibles dealers hold a sale on Bonsall Drive:

It's in the front yard of one of Bonsall's original houses, a modest ranch with a welcoming tree-studded lawn.

There's the tools corner:

With stuff like this wonderful hand-made toolbox:

There are ducks:

And linens:

Vintage kitchen things:

Like this:

Nutcracker, anyone?

How about some little green cows?

I love this fluting iron:

And these toys!

The American Airlines prop plane:

Cool trucks:

And an Erector Set.

This great stove was already sold. (And in the back you can see the furniture area.)

I couldn't figure out what this is, even after reading the manual:

And may I say how much willpower it took to leave this gem behind?

Of course there's always tomorrow.

The sale continues on Sunday, but then this hallmark of summer in Malibu, which has been held for the last 40 years, will be history.

So join in on what has been a unique and lovely ritual. The address on Bonsall is in the top photo. Gates open at 9:30. If you go, drive slowly -- Bonsall is a rural street. And please be neighborly when you park.

See you there!

I love the phrase "night fall", which isn't about the sun setting or the day ending (though of course it is, they are) but tells the advent of dusk, shadows growing, birds in a rush, sounds changing shape and meaning.

Secrets, that's night fall, wind shift, earth scent, dark on the move.

You guys? Walt is now a fully-integrated member of society. He had his official physical check-up at Malibu Coast Animal Hospital today with none other than Dean Graulich, Max's (he preceded this blog) and Jake's and Maisie's vet, and who we've known for about a zillion years. (You should see the cool aquarium in the waiting room, filled with aurelia aurita, tiny moon jellyfish.)

Walt not only has all of his shots now, he has a rabies certificate with which we can get him his LA County license. See? Fully integrated.

Here's Walt at the start of what we hope will be a long friendship with Dr. Dean:

And here's Walt last night, taking his neighbor, Bernie, for a little stroll. (I wish you could have seen the look of relief on Maisie's face that it was Bernie at the end of that leash.)

Oh Walt...

There are a couple of spots on PCH that still look (almost) like they did decades ago, which sometimes seems like a miracle. There's the Adamson House, of course, and the Malibu pier. And in the Castillamare area, there's the building that started out as this -- Thelma Todd's Roadside Cafe.

The bridge is gone, PCH is wider and there's development on all sides. The brightly-tiled building, though, as striking as ever, is still instantly recognizable.

The photo's from 1935, from the LAPL collection *. Todd's death at the cafe -- was it murder? -- remains a mystery, and from the five pages of related photos in the LA Public Library's collection, you get a sense of what a huge story it was.

*The link to the photos sometimes 'expires', but if you type "Thelma Todd" into the search box here, the story unfolds.

It's all Walt, all the time here at the house, thanks to the perpetual motion machine known as a puppy. And for the Tiny Labrador, it has gone from trauma to drama to, well, just look:

He plopped down next to her and Maisie's ears went up in her classic wtf? pose:

This one's instructive for the glimpse you get of puppy shark teeth. (Believe me, they draw blood.)

That bit of blur is when Walt was wildly rolling around. Maisie, meanwhile, hasn't moved a muscle.

This one's cute, plus there's the bonus view of the sub-floor we've been living on as this slow-motion remodel rolls ever-so-sedately along.

And this one's so I'm not tempted to post it tomorrow.

You're welcome.

It's been a busy week for Walter George 'Huck Finn' Clooney, what with learning to ride in a car:

(And having arguments with his human about the wrong way to ride in a car:)

...to play with the pack:

...to follow Maisie everywhere she goes:

...only faster, way faster:

And at the end of a long day spent seeing the beach for the first time, misbehaving in the back seat, and driving the Tiny Labrador crazy with his puppy love, how does the evening begin?

With the Muffinhead letting Walt pass out next to her, even though he snores.

It'll burn off, of course, but for now here's the beach this morning, still and silent --

...well, except for this:

...and this:

...and oh, how good it smelled.

What the owner of this car does -- and doesn't do -- all in one license plate.

Say adios to another hillside:

As story poles--

...show where another house--

...is going in.

Of all the ducks that live at the lake, only this inseparable trio, known to locals as the Three Amigos, actually took to the water as the tiniest of sprinkles rained down.

Meanwhile, in puppy news, Walt saw his first rabbit:

And Miss Crankypants Maisie introduced him to the mysteries of coyote poop.

If it looks like Walt is always flying or leaping or jumping, it's only because he is. Seriously, have you seen his video?

Remember this?

Well now it's this:

It all started when we needed to know whether we could move the sink a few inches to the right so it would be centered under the window, so we (and yes, I do mean we, I'm good with a crowbar) pulled off the wall and it turns out that, in the beginning, the sink was never really under the window at all to begin with but was in the far corner of the kitchen, so the answer was yes, since we're going to fix the crazy jerry-rigged plumbing anyway, the sink can go anywhere at all.

And then, because men with crowbars (and now I do mean "them" and not me, because really, what person in their right mind wants to live with a kitchen that consists of a sink and a stove and a fridge and no countertops or cupboards) will not be denied, the existing kitchen is now in shards in the driveway.

MEANWHILE, the golden sliding glass doors and the golden window have been replaced, the dropped ceiling with the wooden shingles is gone, and that funny little green formica table that used to look so peculiar and 1970s is now the centerpiece of the kitchen.

Also, Walter George Huck Finn Clooney is making himself right at home.

So eighteen months (almost) to the day after our beloved Jake left us, there's a new boy in the house. His name is Walt, he feels like a Finn, but so far he thinks his name is Maisie.

(I really wanted to name him George Clooney, but that's a lot to live up to.) (For George, I mean.)

He's half springer spaniel, half border collie, and because his family in Long Beach got a job transfer and can't take him along, he's giving life in Malibu a shot.

At just 16 weeks he's a total puppy, all mouth and legs and unfiltered impulses. He dumps his water bowl as often as he drinks from it. He gets the hiccups when he's startled. He doesn't think anyone should ever be alone in the bathroom. He's incredibly sweet and really smart, and he's soft, really really puppy soft.

Remember how Jake fell madly in love with baby Maisie and catered to her every wish?

Well, she's not exactly paying it forward:

But Walt Finn George Clooney is patient as well as adorable and if you met him, you'd know Maisie's days as a cranky pants curmudgeon are numbered.

Because the weather guys are saying it's going to be hot (again) today, and not just hot (again) but hotter than normal (oy) and because the roads are clogged and it's Monday AND there's no holiday in sight until the end of August (sorry) let's look at a lone seagull in a lovely spot that's neither hot nor crowded.

Sigh.

Not sure what I like best about this truck -- the two-tone paint or the bullet hole in the windshield. All I can say for sure is that it's running on five (maybe even four) cylinders, a reverse carbon offset to that cute blue Prius next door.

* From this YouTube video (thanks, Lynda!) we learn the following:

"This is a true Rat ( HOT ) Rod. Originally a coal mining truck from Walsenburg, Colorado. Powered by a trick three-deuce V8, this truck has character a ' plenty!"

AND:

"...it was found in a Texas pasture. The tree growing out of the grille was left in it."

Wayyyy better than anything I could have come up with.

There's a shortcut through the mountains here that, if you put up with the occasional screaming motorcycle and pull over for the driver who insists on doing 60, is one of the prettiest roads around.

Rolling hills and ancient oaks, bobcats, birdsong, a certain whooshing sound to the grasses when a certain breeze blows through at dusk.

Hotter here than over there, where on some days, before the summer sun has its way, the marine layer seeps over the ridge line, draped and elegant.

The flag, the fog, the radar gun: it's the 4th of July!

It's late in the day and like everyone around me this hot summer so far, I'm a bit worn out, so here's something wild and lovely, just for the hell of it.

Because getting from here:

To here:

(We added a 3rd bedroom.)

Required being here:

I've been pretending that I'm here:

I'm sorry, what? I CAN'T HEAR YOU THE WIND IS BLOWING!

Oh the pleasure of feeling chilled this morning, of moisture in the air, the breeze beneath the pier, the pelican diving, the shift in the sand when the wave broke.