Trust in Dog

As dog is my co-pilot. Wag more, bark less.

I did my dog Sally a favor this morning.

I took her for our hike/walk up Icicle Ridge Trail in the morning while the cool mountain air still circulated in the valley. I was checking the Weather app on my phone while laying in bed because I had noticed something about major storms or hurricanes somewhere in the United States and as I scrolled down toward the bottom of the Weather site app I saw their little icon indicating that now would be an ideal time to go running. You know the running shoe icon with the red to green gauge encircling it? For whatever reason that was all it took to get me motivated.

Typically, I am not a fan of exercising, or even moving quickly, before 8 a.m.

It’s coffee, podcast, doom-scrolling, social media hopping, writing and then, much later in the day, after the sun has dipped below the ridge, but before the temps really drop significantly, take Sally for her hike/walk. The problem is that I can’t wait until it really cools off because, if I do, I will start thinking about eating dinner and then reversing the morning’s course of events but substitute an alcoholic beverage and/or iced tea for the coffee. Exercising goes out the window - at least exercising with Sally - if I try to work it that way.

And I have to work her into my exercise regimen because I don’t want to take the time to do both and I don’t want to short change her.

Whew! Dogs are such a big responsibility. No wonder our president doesn’t have one.

There’s an old expression - the more keys you have, the less important you are.

And even though, this expression has nothing to do with that expression, in my opinion, the fewer responsibilities you accrue in your lifetime, the longer your lifetime will be. The lesson being, pick and choose your responsibilities carefully, and try not to accrue too many keys! (Ha! I connected them.)

I happen to believe a dog companion is well worth the one or two wrinkles or gray hairs you will get from taking them on as a responsibility.

It is true that there is no such thing as a free pet, however, you cannot possibly put a value on how they make your life more livable, meaningful, full.

Her joy becomes my joy.

Her contentment makes me feel as if I have accomplished something.

Her appreciation of my touch reminds me of my humanity.

Her needs give me purpose.

And, just as important, her attentiveness keep the deer from eating my newly planted scarlet-flowered shrubs.

Lately she has learned to bark. Seven to nine years old and she is just beginning to exercise her vocal cords! Most of the time I suspect she is barking at one of the “dog satellites”. Elon Musk launched dozens of these things because he doesn’t like dogs or dog owners and he wanted to fuck with us. (I just made that up.)

Other times I am sure she is sensing interlopers I cannot see - black bears, deer, lynx, raccoons, big cats - or just barking to hear herself bark. For the novelty of it. She’s always sheepish when I call her inside because of her barking even though I never admonish her for it. I just don’t want it to become a headache for my neighbors.

Maybe she is trying to communicate with the coyotes. Letting them know she is a kindred spirit and would be out there rolling in dead shit with them if she could.

When I first moved into this neighborhood, before Sally but during the time of Daisy, also a ‘pocket pittie’ with DNA from a half-dozen other breeds, there was a cadre of dogs that hung out together. They were the Wilson Street Pack. They didn’t get into trouble unless you consider hitting up every backdoor in the neighborhood for treats ‘trouble’.

The pack has dwindled. Nowadays the neighborhood dogs are kept from roaming. Most are behind fences or hemmed in by electric fences. Sally’s free range but she’s more of a homebody than I am. Occasionally, I go to check on her and, occasionally, I can’t readily find her and I start to think - “that little devil is gallivanting about” - but then she sleepily emerges from one of her many hidey holes. She spends her days vacillating between being buried deep into one of the shrubs to take advantage of their shade and coolness or laying out on the asphalt driveway absorbing as much heat as possible.

As she stalks between one extreme and the next, she pants like an overweight jogger chasing an ice cream truck.

I’ve set up a plastic wading pool on the deck that she sees as the world’s largest water bowl for dogs. No matter how much I try she will not use it as it was intended. She stubbornly insists that I take her to the river or the irrigation canal in order for her to truly cool off. At a certain point of time each day if I haven’t made any indication that I was taking her to one of her favorite water features, she breaks out her Vulcan Mind Meld technique.

It works for her every time. As I get the leash and harness prepped, she responds like I’d just announced that I was going to feed her wet food, morning, noon and night for the rest of her life. Wiggling and prancing around like an over animated wind up toy.

Dogs.

We don’t deserve them.

Look Shan! It works!

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QAnon. It’s really in the news since it is yet another not-suitable-for-work topic our reality tv star masquerading as a public servant refuses to disavow when queried about it today by a White House correspondent. I’ve been threatening to write about it for a while now. Perhaps tomorrow is the day. If you want to get a head start, search Pizzagate or Satan-worshipping cannabalistic cabal. Or listen to the 45 minute introduction to the podcast QAnon Anonymous.

“If your voice didn’t hold any power, they wouldn’t try to silence you.”

Also, the video of The Chicks song March, March will cause the hair on the back of your neck to rise. The list of names flashing on the screen will bring you to tears. I have to thank Clyde Dildine and Kristin Lameau for bringing it to my attention. It’s a very catchy tune as well.