And On and On We Go...

Thorns found everywhere from unknown source.

Two years ago when we travelled, we were ariving home on this day, but this year we’re roaming further east, into New Mexico. It’s cooler here, which is easier for a black dog to take, but damn it if there aren’t a bunch of vicious little star-shaped pods on the ground nearly everywhere we go. And at the last stop, City of Rocks, another snake in the trail, and this time not the harmless variety but a Mojave Rattlesnake! That put a bit of a crimp on the hiking I tell you. Teresa and Nollind don’t have to worry about me (even though snakes are a new thing I’m pretty tuned into any creature’s “leave me alone” vibe) but they worry about Chico, and rightly so. He’s as liable to grab a rattlesnake as a ground squirrel, anything that moves he tries to put between his teeth to see if he can either kill it or eat it or both. He’s the kind of dog who gets the rest of us labelled as animals.

Our campsite at City of Rocks.

Mojave Rattler lying in the trail.

Okay, so I admit I’m getting a bit homesick, and road weary, but I try to show enthusiasm for new things. In Las Cruces we’re camped in an RV park that’s within walking distance of the town of Mesilla, an historic Mexican town that was part of the Gadsden Purchase in 1853 making it part of the United States (or so the sign said). Chico and I don’t usually go along on shopping or dining excursions but Mesilla promotes itself as dog-friendly so along we went. 

Waiting patiently outside the gallery.

The shopping wasn’t bad, mostly wandering the narrow sidewalks past a bunch of very old buildings, but many other dogs walking the same route did make for a pretty interesting olfactory experience. We were only tied up twice (which I despise) outside a gallery and then a bookstore, and each time in the shade and for only a short time. Tolerable. When we walked into the front courtyard of Andele’s Dog House Restaurant I thought, good grief, we’ll be tied to these cement benches for hours while they eat and drink inside. Nollind went in while we waited outside with Teresa—odd—and when he came back out we took the walkway around the side, through the back drive and onto the rear patio of the restaurant. There we were—dogs—in amongst the Friday afternoon drinkers and diners. I think my jaw may have dropped a little…but only for a second.

Andele's Dog House Restaurant

Novelty aside, I wasn’t as enthused with the experience as Chico. People are so noisy when they gather in groups, especially when you put food and alcohol in front of them. Chico was enthralled and kept trying to venture to other tables to meet the neighbours and check for any dropped food. Of course, he never got further than the end of his six foot leash so Teresa and Nollind generously shared their basket of corn chips and plate of Mexican food (at least the parts that weren’t spicy) with us. I mostly hung out under the table, the same thing I do when we have people dining with us at home. There’s something oddly comforting about a low roof and human feet.

The Rio Grande, just before the leashes came off.

Two days ago they took us walking to a trail along the Rio Grande. My Spanish isn’t great, but I thought rio meant river. Apparently in these parts, rio means wide, sandy wash where dogs can run off-leash. Fine by me.

Life on the Road

Entranced by a ground squirrel.

We went from the remoteness of Saddle Mountain to the bustle of the City of Tucson…but I adjust, I’m like that, a “go with the flow” sort of dog. I can sleep as easily in the desert as on asphalt. And here in the city there are a lot of people, and I do love to meet people, and the place we’re staying has resident ground squirrels, which I could watch all day, or at least when I’m not sleeping.

T and Nollind have been a lot busier here—dinners out, live music, a book festival, shopping, the Desert Museum, and apparently some kind of street festival tomorrow. It probably sounds like it’s been pretty boring for us dogs, but not really. We’re staying in a big parking area at Casino Del Sol, where there are a bunch of other RVers and their dogs, and between the desert all around us and the lighted grounds for night walks, we might be doing more walking here than when we were at Saddle Mountain!  

Climbing to the top.

View from the top.

A few days ago, we hiked to the top of a hill that’s just across the main road. It was rocky and a bit of a scramble at the end but what a view! On the way down, Logan picked up a piece of cholla cactus that had fallen on the trail and, before I could get over to help him, I had some too. Nasty stuff—my leg was bleeding by the time T got it removed. Major ouch! Logan was even worse off than me, getting a chunk in his hind leg and also in a front paw, and he limped for a few days until T and Nollind were finally able to locate the one tiny piece that was still stuck in a pad. Poor guy—he always seems to get the worst of these things.

One of many daily naps.

Life on the road is fairly routine but in a good way. I like to start off the day by jumping up on the bed for my morning cuddle and I usually end up falling asleep there until I hear going outside activity like jingling collar tags or shoes going on. An hour or two-long morning walk is followed by breakfast J and a nap, hanging out at the trailer with T and Nollind or maybe waiting for them to come home from some outing we couldn’t go on. We go for another short walk before dinner J, which is followed by more hanging out at the trailer or waiting for T and Nollind to come home from an evening outing. We go for a third walk before bed, get our bedtime biscuit J and, finally, tuck in for the night.

Keeping an eye on the RV neighborhood.

There’s a lot of time for sleeping, but that’s not so different from home, and there’s plenty to watch outside the windows most days, and we get to spend a bunch of time together, which I love. And sometimes, when they can, T and Nollind take us along on their outings. When it’s cool enough they’ll take us on shopping or errand days but mostly down here it’s too hot to be left in a vehicle so we only go when it’s a dog-type outing like a hiking trail or a park.

Well, it was a long, warm walk this morning and I’m feeling a little sleepy. T’s headed outside with a book so I think that’s my cue to take up a spot in the shade on my outdoor sleeping mat. 

Freedom!

If you were to ask me what I value most in life, being that I’m a dog, you might expect me to say treats, the stroke of my master’s hand, my favourite squeaky toy, or some other such stereotypical malarkey. All of the above are nice but, truth is, for me, it’s independence. Most of you probably don’t know why I'm named Logan and might even think Teresa picked it because it was a popular boy's name at the time I came into their lives. Ever see the 70's sci-fi movie “Logan’s Run”? Well, that’s where my name comes from. The first time they took the leash off me out on the prairie I pulled the fastest horizon-job they’d ever seen, and—just like that—I was named. Too bad I wasn’t close enough to see their faces; humans are so amusing. Of course, I came back, always do.

Okay...I confess to having a favourite toy,
but it doesn't squeak, it grunts.

Dogs on strings.

So at home I have a lot of what I value most and can wander over to visit my friends Coco and Asta across the road, or chase off a coyote that comes too close to the farm, or just have my morning constitutional somewhere private, away from where everyone walks. Here on the road, it’s very different and, more often than not, I’m attached to the end of a retractable string. I’m quite aware of how long the leash is, so I rarely hit the end of it, but just knowing that it’s there changes the feel of an outing. And who wants to poop with two people watching and waiting to pick it up? It’s so degrading.

North Algodones Dunes Wilderness

After a week at Fountain of Youth Spa, where we were leashed most of the time, we had the chance to go for a run at Imperial Dunes Recreation Area. At camp there were ATVs, sand cars and side-by-sides everywhere but on the north side of the highway, where the vehicles weren’t allowed, the dunes were completely untracked…until we got there. It was kind of like Huntington Beach piled higher and without water and I couldn’t get enough of running up the hills. Young as he is, I beat that little red mutt to the top every time.

Hiking at Saddle Mountain

Since that day we’ve had some off-leash time every day—at a second place we stayed in the dunes and now here at Saddle Mountain. This was the best spot yet for the first few days; I was free around camp and out walking. The only time the leash went on was when we got up into the cholla cactus, and I’m fine with that—I’ve had a chunk of cholla on my leg and I’m happy to not repeat the experience. But then a new threat was spotted by one of our fellow campers. I don't know much about rattlesnakes but seeing one in the vicinity has meant a lot more leash time for Chico and I. We did see a snake on one of our walks a few days ago—Teresa almost stepped on it—but apparently it was a harmless type (although it did make her jump!).

Western Patchnose Snake about 3' long

Sunset at Saddle Mountain

At Wickenburg yesterday, another Albertan told us about a rattlesnake showing up in a firepit in his busy campground and that they’ve been coming out of hibernation the past couple of weeks. This made for a lot more eyes to the ground during today’s hike back here at Saddle Mountain. I stayed on the road and close to Nollind’s hip, not wanting to find out firsthand about snakes. I’ll leave that to my good buddy Chico.