As I mentioned last Fur-iday, T’s away visiting family. She’s been gone for a week and, despite my concerns, it’s been pretty awesome. Nollind has taken on his animal care duties very seriously and, after only one day of needing to remind him to feed me, he latched onto his new responsibilities with gusto.
Some of the highlights of the week include:
Moving my favourite bed in beside his favourite bass guitar which made me feel pretty important.
… with plenty of treats.
Road trips …
… where I got to ride shotgun …
… and go to Tim Hortons.
There were matinee movies with popcorn …
… and plenty of great naps.
So, as you can see, I haven’t suffered during T’s absence. We guys had a good old time.
But I’m still looking forward to having her home later today because…well…
T’s gone away again, up to northern BC to visit family for a
week. She packed the little blue wheelie suitcase, which means she’s travelling
by plane, which means that I can’t go. I wish I was the size of dog that could
fit in one of those carry-on kennels. That way I could go along on all of her
It’s not that I don’t like hanging out with Nollind … it’s just that I worry … about getting fed. The cats told me a story about once having to carry dead birds into the house as a reminder to fill the food bowl when T was out of town. Cats like to mess with dogs so maybe they were just trying to scare me. But, I suppose, if things get dire, there are lots of pigeons around that nobody seems to be a fan of, and I’m pretty good at scavenging for wild mushrooms and other such treats.
And, I did supervise the making of the “Chico List”—daily walk, breakfast options, dinner instructions—and everything important was on there. Nollind is pretty good with a list. I should be fine…
Maybe someone should come and check on me, say … Tuesday?
It’s that time of year when my thoughts turn toward the deserts of the southwest, a place we’ve spent five winters since 2011. We’re staying home this year, and I’m good with that, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about sun, sand, and long walks among cactus. And all of these things make me think of Logan, my desert travelling companion on all five of our trips south.
He was actually kind of a homebody, in that he didn’t much like transiting from one place to another in a vehicle, but he loved to visit the new place at the end of a day’s journey. He’d go from “We’re all going to die!” in the truck to “Yippee! What a fabulous spot to explore!” the instant he hit the ground.
As much as he came to love the desert in later years, on that first trip in 2012, he was not convinced.
“I’m a pretty tough guy but, really, this desert dog stuff is pushing my limits. I drink from puddles at home all the time but whatever tiny critters live in the water down here do a number on my digestive system. Another normally innocuous part of my life on the farm, plants, also seem to be out to get me down here. I’ve had more thorns in my paws than I can count, one big ball of nasty stuck to the back of my leg, and a spiky branch that seemed to jump right off its host onto my thigh when I walked by.”
“I thought I’d covered all of the bases on desert hazards for dogs but then I discovered yet another — volcanic rock. Doesn’t sound like a big deal to you maybe, but it does a number on a dog’s pads after a few miles. In fact, at least in my case, it wears the surface right off making it extremely painful to walk on anything but a nice smooth surface. Luckily, I have very caring people, who bought me some boots to get around in until things were less sensitive. It was a bit embarrassing walking around camp and having people pointing and saying, “Oh, look at the doggie in the cute little boots!”
When T and Nollind discovered the world of boondocking was when Logan really started to experience the joys of desert life.
“We did 12 days in the desert near Quartzsite and then Bouse, boondocking, as they call it down here. It’s basically camping outside of an RV park or campground for no charge. Chico and I love boondocking — not enough water for baths, a lot more off-leash time, no being cabled to the RV whenever we’re outside, and lots of walking.”
On the last couple of trips south, Logan’s favourite spot was under the trailer on his mat. He would spend all day under there, alternating between sleeping and watching the world go by.
I miss the desert this year, but not being there probably makes Logan’s absence a little easier. A trip to the desert without Logan is hard to imagine. But what really concerns me is how the desert is doing without Logan to watch over it.