Keith Marshall walks Toby down the beach in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. A planned anniversary trip was suddenly made more interesting when the travelers adopted a dog.
A new pup came along on Keith Marshall's and Millie Ball's wedding anniversary trip to Ocean Springs.
At the Chalk House in Ocean Springs, a hoarder's dream, is Mike Murray with his Funky Rat Mobile, a 1964 Chevy Truck stuffed with skulls, 69 rubber and plastic rats, a pink rotary phone and plenty of empty bottles.
Keith Marshall walks Toby down the beach in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. A planned anniversary trip was suddenly made more interesting when the travelers adopted a dog.
One week before our wedding anniversary, we unexpectedly adopted a dog. Our 40th anniversary. We’d already made plans.
After almost two years of wearing T-shirts and sweats during the pandemic, our lives as retirees were Groundhog Days: Zoom encounters in the morning; errands, chores and naps in afternoons; Netflix nights.
We wanted to do something celebratory beyond binging on “Golden Girls,” but couldn’t cope with anything complicated. Ocean Springs, Mississippi, an arts community with 17,000 residents, less than two hours from New Orleans on the Gulf Coast, seemed perfect. We pre-paid two nights accommodations.
Then we spotted pictures of Toby on the website of HALO, a Havanese rescue group where we found our beloved Pandora, a puppy mill survivor, who died in 2020. Keith’s true love, Miss Clio, a black and tan mutt, died in August 2021. For the first time in years, we didn’t have a pup.
An 11-year-old dog is on few wish lists.
A new pup came along on Keith Marshall's and Millie Ball's wedding anniversary trip to Ocean Springs.
But there was something about this 15-pound white and black pup with oversized ears. His owner had moved into a nursing home. We said yes. He needed a minor medical procedure and wouldn’t be ready until after our anniversary trip. Fact: He moved in a week prior to it.
Toby jumped waist high to greet us, and then onto our bed to sleep. He made us laugh. He napped on our laps. And when Toby reacted to a noise or sight, he raised his ears, not his eyebrows. We were besotted.
The inn charged a $40 pet fee. So, of course, we took him.
We chose the slower route that includes the 27 miles of Gulf Coast beach front from mainly residential Pass Christian, “The Pass,” to the casinos of bustling Biloxi.
The 1.8-mile Biloxi Bay Bridge connects Biloxi and Ocean Springs. Some call it “WOW” for “Walking on Water,” because it has lanes for walkers and biker. There are spots to fish and copper plaques of works by local artists.
Many visitors go to Ocean Springs mainly to see works of potter Peter Anderson and artist Walter Inglis Anderson. Those who don’t know about the Anderson brothers hear their names shortly after arrival.
They were born in 1901 and 1903 in New Orleans, and, in 1918, their parents bought 24 acres in Ocean Springs as a site for a summer house. They moved there four years later. Peter opened Shearwater Pottery in 1928, with help from his family, including younger brother James “Mac” Anderson.
On the edge of town, Shearwater still is run by his family. Figurines, tiles and art pottery is sold in its shop. A small pirate costs $22, a kicker (a Saint?) and his football, $50.
The Walter Anderson Museum of Art at 510 Washington is again open for daily tours. The painter believed passionately in the relationship between humans and nature. A highlight of the museum is a small room from his cabin where he lived as a recluse. Every inch is painted with colorful murals no one had seen before his death.
The museum sells prints and clothing with his instantly recognizable designs, as does Realizations, the Walter Anderson Shop in the Depot, a former train station at 1000 Washington Ave. The Ocean Springs Chamber of Commerce/Tourism Bureau (oceanspringschamber.com) is at the other end of the Depot.
Keith, Toby and I settled easily into The Roost, one of several trendy inns in restored cottages and houses. A few walkable blocks to downtown, it has a swimming pool, a cafe, and best of all, a front porch, where Keith relaxed in a rocker. Toby watched him and passers-by, barking fiercely at bikers with dogs.
This senior-boy-and-his-dog team walked on Ocean Springs’ sparsely populated beach that borders Biloxi Bay. Fort Maurepas Park has a playground, public restrooms, parking and a walkway to a fishing pier.
We walked with Toby on Washington Avenue, where shade trees with gnarled branches literally lean slightly over the street that’s lined with cafes, low-key bars, shops selling clothes, jewelry, antiques, even clip earrings. Pink Rooster/Gallery Garbo and Hillyer House are known for quality art work and pottery. And Two Dogs Dancing is all about pups.
Eating out with a dog, especially one who caused a commotion when he swiped a pita bread off our kitchen counter, was an issue. No set menu for us at the raved-about Vestige.
But barbecued beef (no sauce) at The Shed BBQ & Blues Joint outside Ocean Springs was fine. And Toby was a VID at a patio lunch at Maison du Lu, downtown. Ryan, the manager brought him water and a dog biscuit, though Toby was more interested in my salad topped with apple beignets, goat cheese and bacon.
He rode shotgun on my lap around town our final morning.
At the Chalk House in Ocean Springs, a hoarder's dream, is Mike Murray with his Funky Rat Mobile, a 1964 Chevy Truck stuffed with skulls, 69 rubber and plastic rats, a pink rotary phone and plenty of empty bottles.
“Stop!” I shouted to Keith in front of 506 Martin Ave. There were signs all over two trees in front of a white house with a screened porch. “The Chalk House,” read one. Another was “Chalk our Walk.” There was brilliantly painted stuff in the yard. I took photos.
A tan, fit, gray-haired man approached, inviting us to visit his barn.
There wasn’t an inch in and around the barn that wasn’t covered with something. The engine and top of a 1964 Chevrolet pick-up had skulls, dusty model cars, a Corona beer, 69 rubber and plastic rats, and who knows what else. “The Funky Rat Mobile” was scrawled in chalk on the truck’s door. “Please touch,” said another.
“When you retire, you can’t sit at a bar all day,”’ said “Rat Rod” Mike Murray, which is how he signs his smaller creations that he gives away. A youthful looking 80, Murray said he had been a manufacturer’s rep, sold his company when he was 60, and drove south from Cleveland to help after Hurricane Katrina.
“I don’t believe in selling anything,” he said. “I tell young people to think out of the box.”
Toby sniffed at the exquisitely restored 1950 Studebaker Starlite Coupe, then hopped on a sofa.
Hoarders would love it here.
Back by the house, I asked, “What does your wife think of this?”
“She thinks I’m crazy.”
Sue came outside to say hello. She just laughed and smiled. They’ve been together a long time.
“I like people,” he said.
And dogs. He petted Toby, who trotted with us back to the car.
Is it OK to say it was a doggone good trip?
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