After his dog had stuck her nose into yoga, had danced with nudists, had performed "unnatural" acts with the Golden next door, the man believed he had lost all the modesty and niceness he once possessed.

He was premature in that evaluation.

It was in the early spring of this very year. An ominous calm lay heavy on the land. The Great Lake at the bottom on the bluffs had barely the strength to lap upon the beach.

None of which affected Lindsay in any way as she raced around the pathway that led to the beach like a Macy's Day Parade balloon in sudden deflation.

Anexplorer trundled after her, climbing carefully down the 15 foot cascade of rocks to the beach below.

Where Lindsay had come to a complete stop.

A Hindi family had spred a beautiful Asian blanket on the sand. A mother in a richly coloured sari, her son in a simple white garment by her side and a Priest in orange robes knelt before a brazier from which a clean white smoke rose languidly into the air. On the carpet beside them, surrounded by flowers, was a simple urn.

The Priest was chanting softly and was oblivious to the entranced black and white audience standing a few feet away from him.

Anexplorer would have called her back and taken her west along the beach, but she had already passed by them and he was afraid, very afraid, that if he called her she would disrupt their ceremony.

The Priest chanted and Lindsay stood transfixed. Anexplorer held his breath.

One of Lindsay's (many) faults is an excessive friendliness. She had never met a person who didn't delight her to distraction. A polite dog, she also never missed an opportunity to greet people, especially strangers. Especially strangers who were down on her level.

Until now, when she simply stood and watched and listened.

Amazed, and not believing his luck or his eyes, Anexplorer decided the safest course would be for him to quietly pass the family by and continued on down the beach. He walked down to the water's edge and passed the little intimate ceremony as quietly and respectfully as he could.

Once passed them, he signaled Lindsay to follow.

She ran toward him, paused and looked back at the family, ran on, paused and looked back again. It wasn't until they were a considerable distance away and Lindsay had turned her attention to a group of seagulls on the shore, that Anexplorer began to breath again.

And that is when the Priest began tapping a small gong whose crystaline sound rang out along the beach.

Gong!

Lindsay screeched to a halt.

Oh Lord, this wasn't going to be good.

Gong!

Lindsay turned toward the sound.

Gong!

No Lindsay!

Gong!

Lindsay raced back down the beach as if it were calling her to dinner.

Visions, horrible nightmarish visions, were flashing through Anexplorer's brain.

Gong!

And then she did the most unlindsay-like thing. She halted at the edge of the carpet.

Gong! The Priest chanted. And the woman and young boy were in tears, their eyes transfixed, not on the dog standing inches away from them, but on the small urn beside them.

All of nature seemed to hold its breath.

The Priest rang the gong one more time, raised his hands and chanted louder.

And Lindsay lay down on the beach and watched, respectfully.

Based on past experience, Anexplorer didn't trust her. So he quietly walked up beside her and slipped on her leach.

Her eyes transfixed on the ceremony, Lindsay came away with great reluctance. She paused to look back at the family many times before finally they were a safe distance away. Anexplorer had led her up another path to the top of the bluffs, and had walked back to the car park before he had begun to breath again.

Lindsay had behaved respectfully.

Maybe she was starting to grow up?

Anexplorer wondered what unexpected adventures that would bring.

Like many young girls, Lindsay took an interest in exotic far Eastern religions. She studied Yoga at one point and was fascinated by Hindi ceremony at another.

The no longer quite so nice or modest man had no idea she had taken a spiritual bent when he set out to take her for a walk along the bluffs one calm and sunny early morning in spring.

Indeed, it has been argued, by Mrs. Anexplorer, that Lindsay had no idea Yoga existed when they set off that morning. If Mrs. Anexplorer is correct, then Lindsay's discovery that day would have come as a revelation.

Normally, in the early morning hours, man and dog have the bluffs to themselves. But not always. You can never tell what may be hiding in the bushes or lurking around the next bend.

And so it was on that morning that as Lindsay turned a corner on the bluffs she encountered a a beautiful and lithe black woman doing yoga on the beach. The woman considered herself all alone on a promontory with waves from the great lake crashing against the rocks in counter-point to the serenity of her mood.

Her commune with Nature was soon to become a deeper, and more direct, experience than she had anticipated.

She was doing the sun salutation, much to Lindsay's amazement. The little dog had seen nothing like it. And wanted to know more.

Lindsay had run on ahead of Anexplorer and when he rounded the corner he was struck by an incredible sight.

In her discovery of Yoga Lindsay had been drawn by some deep inner spiritual urging toward the graceful movements of the woman on the beach. Who was facing the waters of the lake and unaware a dog was cautiously approaching her neither regions.

Before Anexplorer could shout out a warning, the woman reached that part in the sun salutation where she raised her bum high in the sky to a point where it unexpectedly reached the cold wet nose of her newest acolyte.

She screamed.

Lindsay ran off, terrified.

And Anexplorer had a lot of explaining to do. And a lot of apologizing. He didn't know Yogis could get so angry.

Little did he know Lindsay, having mastered yoga, would next be taking an interest in Hindi ceremonials.

The day is warm and Lindsay is especially frisky. Her black coat gleams and she darts about with her tail wagging delightedly, her nose scraping the surface of the ground like a vacuum cleaner sucking up scent.

Suddenly she pauses and stands alert, eyes scanning the pathway ahead. Then as the no longer quite so modest and now nervous man (uncertain what might leap out of the bushes) approaches, she gives herself a shake and prances off along the path until she vanishes into the distance. Seconds later she comes racing back, dancing excitedly around his feet. Come on slowpoke she's saying, lets get going.

It's okay for her, she enjoyed dancing with nudists.

The man smiles ruefully.

She is so active and alive, it's hard to believe Lindsay is crippled with arthritis and wracked with severe pain.

Yet that was the diagnosis from his vet. From the time she was a year old Lindsay would limp painfully around the house and could often be found huddled in a back room whimpering in agony. For two years the man could only take her for short walks around the block, Lindsay limping and whining all the way. It was painful to watch.

She was on a daily dose of aspirin to ease her suffering; but this barely seemed to take the edge off the pain.

And then her arthritis went away. Vanished completely.

Within a week of the man's arthritic mother moving into a retirement home.

Since his father's death, his mother had lived in a granny flat attached to his house. She cared for Lindsay through the day while the man and his wife were at work. A very independent woman, his mother cared for the garden, cooked her own meals, had Lindsay for companion, and limped painfully about her apartment. Her arthritis so bad she had had a knee replaced and may need surgery on the other. But now just short of 90 there are other health issues that make that further operation unlikely.

Had Lindsay been miraculously cured of her arthritis? Or had she been mimicking his mother's behaviour?

The March issue of National Geographic has an article on animal intelligence. The cover star is a boarder collie with a vocabulary of 300 words. Lindsay is an English Springer Spaniel and the man had no idea how many words she understands. She's certainly the smartest dog he'd ever owned. Knows all the family members by name. Never needs to be talked to in short commands, she's very comfortable with sentences.

Although sometimes the simple word "NO" often seems a challenge for her.

That animals have minds and thoughts comes as no surprise to many of who have spent most of their lives in the company of animals. What is surprising is that it has taken so long for this to gain scientific acceptance. Are we that insecure about our place in the universe that we can’t acknowledge what is right in front of us, the man wondered?

Lindsay plunges back along the trail toward man, thankfully alone, having failed to flush any weird creatures out of the bushes today. Her eyes sparkle and there's a smile on her face. The increasingly perplexed man doesn't think she's a miracle dog. He thinks she's just trying to be part of the family. As the National Geographic article says, "A dog in a human pack needs to learn to adapt."

Given the danger to New Orleans as Hurricane Gustav pounds on shore testing the repairs and preparations done around that City, it seems disrespectful to publish funny little stories about Lindsay today.

With the Hurricane downgraded to a category 2, New Orleans will survive with minimal damage and we can get back to being a little more playful tomorrow.

The nice but no longer quite so modest man knew the time would come. It was not a story he wanted to tell and it certainly wasn't one that involved a pretty sight. But it was part of Lindsay's life and honesty demanded it be told.

She was five when she met the naked man in the bushes. Lindsay was simply going about her doggy business during a run along the top of the Scarborough Bluffs, following every interesting scent that came the way of her cold, black, twitchy nose.

Barry was following along behind her, lost in thought as usual and paying little attention. It was a bright and sunny day in August. Usually Barry avoided the trail on the top of the bluffs in late summer because it became over grown and difficult to see the poison ivy that flourished in unsuspecting patches.

So they should have been walking along the beach at the bottom of the bluffs that day, but, as fate would have it, they weren't.

Ahead of him Lindsay was prancing along the pathway at twice his speed when she suddenly encountered a surprising smell, whirled about and plunged into the bushes at the side of the path.

Her plunge into the thicket was immediately accompanied by a resounding shriek and a totally naked man who came levitating out of the brush. He was short and more than a little pudgy and was emitting an ear splitting squeal.

Startled to his core, Barry came to an abrupt halt.

Lindsay flew out of the bushes behind the man who continued shrieking and hopping up in down in terror.

Much to Lindsay's great delight.

Here was a man who knew really how to play! The more he hopped the more excited she got, her tail wagging with joy.

Barry, however, was not happy to see that his innocent little dog had taken up dancing with the neighbourhood pervert but before he could do or say anything, the man dashed off with a kind of waddling hop, squealing still, down a side pathway.

Lindsay continuing to dance and hop around him.

Gradually the squeals became more distant and the meadow at the top of the bluffs grew quiet.

Barry waited trying to process what he had just witnessed. As he waited he became aware that where the man had been hiding was not just a patch of bush and grass but was alive with more potent stuff. It was everywhere. The man had been sitting naked, by the side of the path, in a patch of poison ivy.

There was no sign of any clothing strewn about. How had the naked man come to be there? What had he been doing? Was he waiting to jump out and expose himself to passers by? On a trail that almost no one used in the late summer?

Lindsay came prancing back, eyes alive with the joy, her dance with nudists done for the day.

Wasn't that fun, she seemed to say.

About that, Barry wasn't sure. But it did give him a great story to bring home to Linda.