The Dog Days of Summer

Apparently, this time of year was referred to as the dog days of summer by the ancient Greeks because they associated the hottest days of summer with the star Sirius, or “Dog Star”, and its rise just before the sun. I can believe that. It most certainly wasn’t because creatures covered in fur who have just a few sweat glands on our paws and cool off via panting are at all comfortable at this time of year. You’ve seen it. Dog on a hot day with its tongue on the floor. It may look like a big smile but, believe me, I’m not smiling.

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Yes. I know. It’s long.

 

Holy hot, what is going on this summer? It’s been hot almost every day since the beginning of July with most days out here on the farm rising above the thirty degree mark (that’s 86 Fahrenheit). Now I know it’s not Arizona or Australia kind of hot, but for many of us northerners, especially those of dressed in fur year-round, it’s just too hot.

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Morning road walk. Anybody have a bowl of water?

 

Teresa tries to get us out early for our daily walks, but even in the morning that sun seems to blaze into my black coat. Since the start of the heat, we’ve been walking along the canal so that we can swim and drink as much as we want to. And then they sprayed weed killer. Teresa’s not a fan of chemicals and won’t walk us down there until there have been a couple of good rains. I appreciate the consideration but, man, I sure miss the water when we’re baking in the hay field or down the road. Come on, rain!

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Rain dance in the hay field.

 

I went out with Teresa late this morning on a horse manure pickup mission. Thankfully, the area the horses had dropped most of their piles was near a shady spot where I could lie and watch. I said I went out with her, I didn’t say I went along to help. Not much I can do anyway other than supervise and I think I handled it just fine from fifty feet away in the shade. But, even with the shady vantage point, by the time we came in I was panting like a locomotive and seeking a little cool from the hardwood floor. I used to spend a lot of time in the basement during hot weather but, now that I’m getting on in years, I try to limit my trips up and down the stairs. Preservation, you might say.

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Maybe next time I’ll stay inside for horse chores.

 

On a positive note, Dictionary.com says that the Dog Days of Summer is “a period marked by lethargy, inactivity, or indolence.” Well, at least I’m doing it right.

On the Road Again

This Fur-iday you find us on the road to a weekend camping adventure. We were supposed to head out on Tuesday but a big storm came rampaging through Alberta, complete with special weather statements and warnings from Environment Canada, and we decided it was best not to be camped in the middle of it. Good thing too because the winds were just two kilometres per hour shy of hurricane strength out here on the farm and there was some broken tree cleanup required on Thursday.

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Luckily, Sid came out the other side of the storm unscathed so we are off to the mountains today! We’ll tell you all about it next Fur-iday.

Have a great weekend!

They Call Me “Buzz”

Buzz … this seems to be my new nickname. I don’t entirely understand it but it seems to have something to do with the pills I was on during Wednesday’s drive from Las Vegas to Salt Lake City. I felt great from start to finish. No shaking, no drooling, no racing heart. Cool as a cucumber for 420 miles. Teresa and Nollind found me incredibly amusing, and I wasn’t sure why until I re-read this start to my blog post that I wrote while travelling.

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Watching the world go by.

It’s a bit embarrassing but here goes …

Heeeyyyyy ….. duuuuudes. I’m writing to you from the road as it flashes by my window. Whoa! What was that? S’okay. It’s all good. Just a semi (that’s pronounced semm-eye in these parts) going past us. Man, those things clip along and you would be amazed at how many of them are on the road down here. Hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions! They usually scare the bejeezus out of me, but today, for some reason, they just look kooool as they stream past us. Whoa … there goes a red one! Niiiiice.

We’re on the road to Salt Lake City today, left sin city this morning because another high wind advisory was in the forecast. The peeps wanted to get on outta there and a bit further up the road toward home. I’m down with that. I’m cool—is that sausages I smell? Sausages … I would love, love, love some sausages.

See what I mean? This gives me a clue as to why I was a source of amusement for the humans. I think they expected the drugs to make me groggy, but it was more like the pills erased my fears and inhibitions. The truck travel was fun, the leash-less jog around the rest area with Nollind in hot pursuit was definitely a highlight, and food never tasted so good. I even put a carrot in my mouth (drugs or no, still not sure why Chico considers them food). The corn chips, cheese, and salmon, however, which were also part of lunch, were the best ever, and I’m not normally a fan of corn chips unless they’re doused in sour cream, and any kind of fish sits firmly in the “it’s okay sometimes” category.

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Morning walk near the Vegas RV park (before the drugs kicked in).

The pills are the same ones I took on the way south in December, the pharmaceuticals from my friend Dixie, but Teresa doled them out a bit differently on Wednesday. Instead of giving me the first one about an hour before setting out and letting the effects slowly wear off before giving me another, she kept feeding me half a pill every couple of hours (vet said I could have 2 ½ every 8 hours). Rather than getting sleepy and then back into full-on travel anxiety mode as they wore off, I just stayed in my happy place and was, apparently, quite funny.

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Thursday morning coming down.

We had a sunny walk along the Jordan River parkway yesterday morning, but then the rain began. The rain turned to snow further up the highway into Idaho and Montana so we’re here at the KOA in Salt Lake until tomorrow, waiting for the storm to clear out, before making a push for Canada.

Normally my anxiety would be building already with the idea of two more days of driving ahead of me, but Dixie’s little pill bottle still has a pretty good supply (thanks, Dix!). I think I’m good, almost looking forward to it.

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Courage in a bottle.