Memories, All Alone in the Gloaming

I was pacing back and forth at the stone wall, yelling for my dogggiez to come back from the Scary Woods before dusk became dark, when a great idea blossomed in my brain...I think it was pretty important, too...but, by the time I got 2 of 3 dogggz back in the house, I forgot everything.
So, nada. Nothing. Nada. Our nada who art in nada.
Pamplona.
Spain. If you're a fan of Hemingway, you know the city of Pamplona. Every July suicidal maniacs run with fighting bulls down the narrow streets of beautiful Pamplona. But, go there--just not in July. The countryside is breathtaking. You want to pull off to the side of the road, unload your gear, set fire to the rental car and walk up to one of the shepherds' huts that dot the pastures all around.
You live. You die.

Last night I was awakened by the sound of jack boots stamping up my stairs and the bedroom door bursting off its hinges. Pam and I sat up in bed staring into blinding lights. A group of men stood around our bed menacing us. It turned out that we were the most recent victims of the Blogosphere Ton-Ton Macoute. The internet Gestapo. The Secret Police of Bloggers. Beware!! I was told that my blog had been classified as SPAM. Is that good, I asked the officer in charge. Don't be coy, Mr Spaeth, he growled, as his one good eye twitched and his thin lips pressed together firmly. Seriously, Colonel, why are you standing in our bedroom at 3 am? Very clever, Mr Spaeth! I'm a major, not a colonel. And we're here to inform you that your blog has been classified as SPAM. SPAM is obscene--a rot in the foundation of our 1000 year empire. Do you understand??
What?? I'm sorry, colonel. I just had a great idea for another posting on my blog site. What did you say?
Bamg!! Bang!! The room lit briefly twice and filled with smoke, choking the uniformed soldiers standing over the dead bodies of a man and a woman lying on the floor.

The pink/gold clouds have turned to gray, and I can actually see shadows moving across the fields this evening. The daylight creatures are settling in for an uneasy rest while nighttime predators stretch and clean themselves for another round of hunting. Owls cry. Coyotes yip.