Okay, it’s possible this is my fault. I’m not the best traveller, and I did have a bit of a panic attack on the way home from Saskatoon in September. I’m not sure why car travel gets to me like it does. We’re driving along, I’m holding it together, killing the “stoic border collie” schtick, and then a big truck goes by, or a stone hits the vehicle with a loud smack, or I just suddenly realize how fast we’re going, and it all falls apart.
The panting comes first, and then the shaking starts, and usually that’s where it stops but, once in awhile, I just can’t contain myself and there I am climbing into the front seat. Sometimes Teresa takes pity on me and lets me crawl over her and sit at her feet, like she did driving from Saskatchewan in September, but more often I have to stay in the back because with my panting comes a whole lotta drool. So embarrassing.
So, I had my climbing over the seat episode on the way back from Saskatoon … and now it’s December and I’ve seen no signs of packing. The days are getting shorter, there’s been snow, but Sid (the RV) looks parked for the winter. Coincidence? Maybe, maybe not. Not sure if Chico knows yet, and I don’t want to be the one to break it to him. He’s a desert dog if I’ve ever seen one.
Truth be told, back in October, I had little interest in going south again — the time in the truck, the stomach bugs, the thorns and volcanic rock — but now that the weather is turning colder, I’ve been dreaming about the desert. Last night I was running up one of the Kelso Dunes.
They’re talking about going again next year, but do you know that’s the equivalent of seven years for a dog? And half of that seven years will be winter!
I’ll be twelve in January. I wonder if that’s why I feel the cold more than I used to. Things feel a little stiffer, my paws get cold quickly and, unless I’m running, the darned shivering takes me over. Teresa complains about the same things — stiff joints, cold paws, and chills. Maybe we’re both meant to be snowbirds.