If You’re Reading This…

If anyone could blog from beyond the grave it would be my pal, Logan. I found this letter tucked in amongst his favourite toys…

Dear Friends & Family,

If you’re reading this then I guess I’ve moved on, to wherever it is we go when our time on this earth is complete. Maybe we come back, maybe we don’t. If I do come back, I think I’ll aim for a body with a longer lifespan, like a tortoise—nah, too slow—or maybe a parrot—but then some cat might get me. Perhaps best to stick with dog or cat or horse, some creature I’m familiar with, or hey, how about human?

Definitely not a tortoise.

But enough musing about what the big, unknown future might hold for the soul of an old dog. That’s me, an old dog. I know I’ve been saying it for a couple of years, but now I really feel it, in my bones and to my core.  As you’ll know if you’ve been reading the blog of our adventures, I’m a fighter, a fighter with a tendency to rise from the mats on the count of nine. I’d like to say I’ve got one more in me, that I can bounce back from whatever it is I’ve felt creeping up on me this past couple of weeks, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. The medications don’t help like they used to, the trips to the vet for the Legend injection aren’t giving me their promised bounce, and the distance between the house and the barn just keeps growing.

Who’d have thought I’d ever run out of bounce?

My hope is that they’ll let me go, not drag things out until I’ve become a burden, allowing the me they’ve known all these years to be replaced by someone they don’t recognize … or enjoy. It can happen. I saw it happen with Chelsey as she got older and crankier and so difficult for all of us to live with. To remember Chelsey with a smile on your face you have to go back a ways, to when she wasn’t old and sick. I want to go knowing I made them smile that very day. It’s the least I can do for all they’ve given me: a good home, enough freedom to keep an independent spirit happy, jobs to occupy my Border Collie half, a diet to appease a fussy eater, adventures galore, the best of care in my old age, and love, of course, plenty of that.

Horse dog from the day I arrived.

To Chico … I admit I wasn’t sure about you at first, hackles up and peeing on a wall in my house, but you grew on me in the years that followed. I’m glad they found you and happy to have shared our many great adventures. Look after them all for me, the humans, the horses, the barn cats, and keep telling your stories on Fur-idays.

Is he staying? (January 2011)

To Nollind … I know I was your first love when it comes to dogs, but I’m pretty sure I’m not your last (I’ve seen you hoist Chico up onto your lap when he’s cold). I’m glad I got to be the one to turn you into a dog guy, to convince you that dogs do belong on the furniture, show you that dog poop is not toxic (despite how it smells), and teach you there’s nothing quite like the love of a dog.

A boy and his dog.

To Teresa … For finding me all those years ago in the Bargain Finder (and wasn’t I a bargain?), for taking me into your home and your heart, for catering to my whimsical appetite and need for freedom, and for all those hours and dollars you spent searching for the solutions to my physical challenges in my later years … thank you. I’m sorry for the decision you had to make for me at the end of my life but know that you were right, it was time to say goodbye. I told you you’d know.

Even acupuncture couldn’t keep me from getting old.

To my snowbirding pack … I’m sorry I was such a rotten travelling companion. Thank you for always taking me along anyway. Despite my near deafness, I heard the recent chatter about staying home for the winter to look after me. So, what are you waiting for? Start packing! I’ll be right there with you for every stop along the road.

Lunch and walk break early on in our first journey south.

And to all of you who have been following our adventures these past seven years, thank you for reading, for commenting, for caring, and for noticing when a Fur-iday goes by that you don’t hear from us. This is Logan signing off, unless of course there’s a way to communicate from the other side of what they call the “Rainbow Bridge”. In that case, I’ll be in touch.10-Logan-ifyour-logan


Hot Times in the Desert

On the heels of a colder than normal December, January, and February, March is making up for it. Our first day at Telephone Cove on Lake Mohave was cool and breezy but, since then, the thermometer has been 30 degrees Celsius (that’s 86 Fahrenheit) or better every day. For some of you sun lovers, that may not sound terribly hot, but try wearing a black fur coat complete with leggings instead of shorts and flip flops. I guarantee you’ll have a different hot weather threshold.


How I prefer to spend beach time.

I’ve always been a shade lover, unless it’s a cold day and I’m lying on the wood deck in front of the house. Even then, my ability to lie in the sun is limited. With the majority of the winter as cool as it was, I’ve probably done more soaking up the sun than in any of our previous trips, but it seems that my sunbathing days are over, the heat has arrived.


Moonlight is so pleasant.

Telephone Cove was our first hot spot, beyond that first day. The breeze off the lake was cool, but it eased in the afternoon, right about the time things were really heating up. Nollind normally parks the trailer so that the big windows face north in hot weather, keeping it cooler inside, but at Telephone Cove he couldn’t situate us that way very easily. By mid-afternoon, the trailer was like a sauna. Luckily, there was a lot of hanging out in camp at that spot so afternoons were spent outdoors in the shade. And, of course, there was the lake for cooling down. The water was pretty chilly after all the cold winter weather, but even Teresa went in for a swim on the last two days.


Cooling off in Lake Mohave at Telephone Cove.

From Telephone Cove we drove to Las Vegas for an overnight. It was hot there too and I was worried it would feel even worse in that asphalt/concrete jungle. What I didn’t consider was that RV parks have electricity and when we can plug Sid in we have air conditioning. What a treat! For twenty-four hours I didn’t have to think about how to stay cool.

Whitney Pockets was our next stop. We arrived at sunset with a cool breeze blowing off the mountains but the next day the thermometer climbed again. We did our exploring early in the day and spent the hottest part of the afternoon hanging out in the shade of the trailer with margaritas—well, the humans had margaritas, we dogs stuck with water. Water is a much wiser choice in the heat.


Morning hike at Whitney Pockets.


A shady, lazy afternoon.

I don’t like Teresa & Nollind to alter their plans on my account—normally—but when they opted to head further north into slightly cooler temps for my benefit, I didn’t argue. It’s still pretty warm here in southern Utah, the days getting up into the high 20s (80ish Fahrenheit), but it doesn’t feel so intense and it cools off nicely overnight. It helps that we’re camped at the top of a hill so there is almost always a breeze.


Leaving Whitney Pockets headed for cooler places.


Walking near camp in southern Utah.

I’m not sure how long we’re staying here or where we’re off to next. From what I’ve picked up from recent discussions, Teresa & Nollind don’t seem to know either. I guess we’ll all be surprised.


The desert sun leaving us for another day.

Doggone It!

Chico laptop 1I was all set to write my blog post for today, Fur-iday, but T and Nollind have gone off to the Calgary Reads Book Sale followed by dim sum at the Silver Dragon, and I can’t seem to turn this darn thing on.

Chico laptop 2It’s not plugged in so I’m wondering if the battery is dead. Or maybe I’m not hitting the right button. T usually does this part for me.

Drat and darn! There’s no way I can type a whole post on Logan’s tiny smartphone keyboard. I guess I’ll have to catch you next Fur-iday … 😦Chico laptop 3