Blue Dog Journal by George-Rodrigue

This product is not associated with my narrative of the same name.

Or is it?

Many years ago in New Orleans I saw, in a gallery, Rodrigue's art, including I am sure the blue dog pictured above. I did not know the artist's name, or how popular his blue dogs were, until recently.

Though I cannot credit Rodrigue's art as a direct influence on my open ended narrative about life on the border of California and possibility, I will admit my glimpse of Rodrigue's blue dog may have influenced me somewhere below memory as The Blue Dog Journal, the characters and their stories, began to take shape in my mind. Especially as my blue dog - read chapter 4 for his first appearance - looks not unlike Rodrigue's! Though height is difficult to judge in the picture above, I think my hound is bigger, if scrawnier, and  maybe a little rougher around the edges but a similar shade of blue.

Now that I am aware of Rodrigue and his blue dog on a conscious level, it is only a matter of time before they appear somewhere in my open ended narrative. And maybe I should start using Rodrigue's journal to write The Blue Dog Journal. A nice idea but I am composing more and more on the laptop these days. 

Part II - one

The relationship was serious almost immediately, both Ginny and Rebecca would agree. If it wasn’t quite love at first sight, it was at least love at second sight. Ginny, who’d been unhappy with Gordon for a while, wasn’t actively seeking another lover. Not consciously, at least; and certainly not at The Rolling Bear Café on some off Tuesday afternoon. Rebecca, for her part, thought that she preferred men. Then their eyes met.

“Hi!” said Rebecca, still practicing her waitress smile after only a few days on the job as she offered a menu down to Ginny, who sat looking up from the corner of her usual booth.

Ginny blinked, noted the plastic name tag on the girl’s blouse. “Hello, Rebecca.”

At the sound of her name pronounced in the breathy voice of this dark and beautiful woman, Rebecca’s real smile shone through her practiced expression. Ginny returned the smile and it was then that each of them knew the world had changed.

“Can I start you off with something to drink?” Rebecca, not knowing what else to say, bravely pressed forward with routine.

Ginny knew just what to say and said it, “What time do you get outta’ here?”

Rebecca laughed, a sound like wind chimes to Ginny’s ears. “About 8…”

“Can I see you then?”

“Yes, please.” Rebecca could hardly believe what she was saying. “I’ll wait for you.”

Except for Mel in the back, they had been alone in the café until that moment when the bell tinkled on the door and old Doc Grimes entered. Nobody was sure just what kind of doctor Grimes was, but most agreed his field of knowledge seemed wide and deep enough that he might have been any kind. Rebecca turned her waitress smile on the old man as he took a seat at the counter. “Be right with you, Doctor!”

Grimes waved a hand. “No hurry!”

Turning back to Ginny, Rebecca’s real smile returned.

Ginny had not removed her eyes from the young waitress and was now even deeper in love. “Wonderful,” she said. “My name’s Virginia, by the way, but you can call me Ginny. And yes, please, can I get a Coke?”

Rebecca felt somehow that she knew the answer, but she asked the question anyway, “Diet or regular?”

“Fulla’ sugar and caffeine!” Ginny laughed.

Regular, just as Rebecca had known.