Paws Can’t Dial 911

Sorry I missed my post last week. All the stuff with Logan just had me too upset and feeling guilty.

When he was stuck in that stupid hole, I was happy and safe in the house. It’s not that I’m favoured over him or he over me, just that T and Nollind like to leave us where we’re happiest when they go for the day or the evening. I’m happy in the house and, these days, Logan is happy out in the yard. So anyway, there I was, probably napping on the couch while he was struggling to get out of that hole. It’s not like I could have done anything, like call 911 or rush out and assist him, but still, I felt terrible I didn’t even know it was happening.

Now I sometimes lie awake and worry.

On the positive side, what this experience has reminded me of, is that my long-time buddy and adopted brother is awesome. He’s been what seemed like down for the count on at least three occasions in the last year, and every time he has rallied. I thought this one for sure was going to be “the one” that would take him out. He couldn’t walk, or stand, or get to his feet without help. But then he could.

Despite his awesomeness, I know he won’t be around forever. He’s gone beyond the life expectancy for his breed and has a bushel of health issues. So far, he still wants to be here and continues to fight, every day, but I know that could change in a heartbeat. So I just savour every moment that we get to hang out, even if it’s horizontal time.

Shared horizontal time.

Walks are becoming fewer and farther between, and continually shorter, but Logan still accompanies me on the gopher rounds in the yard and out to the barn most days, and he can keep up surprisingly well for all his stiff-and-soreness. Sometimes I wish he’d just walk so that he’ll hurt less afterward, but it’s just not in his DNA. Logan loves to run and will do so as long as his legs will carry him.

T and I have been walking the canal every couple of days and I love it down there. The birds, the swimming, the smells. But I hate leaving Logan behind, especially when he knows we’re going and follows us to the door, or worse, to the front of the yard. If they got me some kind of wagon he could ride in I’d be happy to pull it. That way we could explore all of our favourite places together. T has driven us to the canal a couple of times and we’ve walked just far enough for Logan to have a swim. He has difficulty climbing out afterward but she’s always right there to grab his harness and give him the old heave-ho onto the bank when needed. We haven’t been there since the hole incident but, with this hot weather, maybe tomorrow?

Along the canal.

Logan also gets left behind on most field trips these days. He doesn’t travel well and can’t walk much when we get there so, I suppose, what’s the point. Last week, T and I had a little adventure in Prince’s Island Park. I wouldn’t want to live in the city but, man, I sure enjoy going there. Holy sights, sounds, and smells! Logan’s nose was all over me when I got home. His sniffer is still working just fine so he knew exactly where we’d been. Even knew about the little Dachshund that went for my throat!

Calgary field trip.

I’m going to be an only dog one day in the not-too-distant future and, although I know this means more attention, my choice of beds, and no sharing table scraps, which sounds pretty much like heaven on earth to a guy like me, it also means no Logan. I’d trade a truck full of table scraps for another few months with my bud (especially because I know he’d share them with me!) ;o)

Happy together.

 

We’ve Been Boarded!

It was bound to happen. When you’re always parked out in nature, sooner or later nature is going to move in. And, on top of that, here at Craggy Wash, a lot of people don’t seem to be following the golden rule of camping — pack it in, pack it out — which leads to more critters being attracted to the camping area.

Craggy Wash campsite.

I’m a pretty good hunter, caught fifteen gophers last year, so I’m embarrassed to admit I slept right through the intruder. I noticed the strange smell in the trailer on Wednesday morning but I assumed it was something blowing in off the desert.

Anyway, there it was all over the counter and in the drawers … the evidence. Aaarrr … we had been boarded. A rodent had been in our house, sampling from the fruit bowl, walking around in the dishes, leaving a trail of droppings as it went. It was probably just a mouse, but a big one based on the size of the pellets it left behind. For his sake, I hope the little pirate has moved on as Nollind has laid out a trifecta of rodent repellent and killer.

Me, I slept with one eye open on Wednesday night and, as a result, was a bit tired for our long walk day yesterday. Long walk day comes every second day when T and Nollind take Logan and me for our usual morning walk and then take me for a second, longer adventure.

Keeping watch.

 

For yesterday morning’s long walk we drove to a place called Castle Rock at the north end of Lake Havasu and hiked along the cliffs above the marshy area where Lake Havasu becomes the Colorado River. I was dragging by the time we reached the top of the first sandy hill, envying Logan who was no doubt lying on his couch back at camp. But, after a rest stop to enjoy the view, I got my second wind and led the hike the rest of the way.

Getting my second wind.

We came up here to Lake Havasu City when we left Quartzsite last Friday. I would have been happy to stay on and continue to explore the washes of Dome Rock BLM but our fourteen days were almost up and it was time to move on.

Dome Rock wash walk.

Sadly, I didn’t get my trip to Beer Belly’s. T and Nollind did go one more time, but it was at the end of a ride to Dripping Spring that would have been too long and hot for me. I’m okay with it. There will be other dog-friendly bars and patios, and I’m sure we’ll be back at Q one day.

Apparently, the chairs inside are smaller, but this one would be perfect for me (with a boost). No more spilling out!

The weather has turned cooler which has meant a little less time hanging outside at this camp. In fact, one day T and Nollind didn’t leave the trailer other than to take us for a walk. If you ask me, they’ve gotten soft, and I’m a little worried how they’re going to fare back home in Alberta. Okay, mostly I’m worried I’ll never get outdoors! But, they have more clothes there, warm clothes, so that should help. I might even willingly don a jacket (yes, you read that right) if the temps are still below freezing. I’ve shed my warm undercoat over the course of the winter.

Chilly morning walk at Craggy Wash.

Anyway, I’ve gotten way off track from the pirate story. So I’ll just wrap this up with a, “Yo ho ho, ye landlubbers and scallywags! This son of a biscuit eater’s got to get back to the poop deck and give that freebooter the old heave-ho! Aaaarrrr!”

Return of the Dame

Some of you might remember Dixie from the last time she visited us in March. Well, a week ago she came to stay with us again, this time for five days. She was supposed to be here for a few weeks in the late spring but, when her health seemed to be failing, a European vacation became a road trip to Canada’s west coast so she could go along. Miraculously, she’s been mostly fine since what seemed a brush with the end of life. She is one sly dame. I’ll have to remember that trick if my people ever start planning a long trip that doesn’t include me.

Sunset walk with the farm in the background

It’s been seven months since Dixie was here in spring, that’s about four years in the life of a human, and she seems just as spry and energetic as she did then. In fact, she might have been bouncier this time. I don’t recall the rambunctious morning play sessions from her spring visit. And out on our walks, she still sets the pace, not slowing down until the last stretch toward home. And don’t think she slows down because she’s getting tired, I’m certain it’s just a reluctance to end the walk so soon.

When she does finally get tired, she doesn’t choose the cushiest bed in the house, nope, she prefers the floor, or the ground. Me, I’m all for comfort, but maybe she’s onto something. Maybe there’s benefit in a cool, hard surface to sleep on. Maybe I’ll try it. 

Or maybe not …

I’m seven now, eight in a few months, and already approaching what’s considered the senior stage of a dog’s life. That was quick, and I sure don’t feel like a senior. When she was here, I asked Dixie about her secret to a long, healthy life. You know what she said? Enjoy each day, always express the love you feel, and walk, walk, walk. She is one smart dame.