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Trail(er) Days

The early days - at Indian Graves.

This year Teresa and Nollind have decided they want to get more trail riding in so their goal is to get out to the mountains once a week. I used to love the trails, went along on every ride, but then trail days for people and horses turned into trail-er days for dogs. Yup, we get left behind in the living quarters of the horse trailer these days. It’s comfortable and cool and there’s a window to look out if you hop up on the bench seat, but it’s not like the old days of following them down the trail.

Leading the ride up a mountainside in BC.

I lost count of how many trail rides I went on over the years, all over Kananaskis Country, and even a couple of weeks in the Smithers area of BC. I was a “trail dog” and Teresa & Nollind bragged about how I was never too far away from the horses but never underfoot, able to trot for the 15-30 km without expiring, and not inclined to chase after wildlife. Life was good. And then, in 2011 … Chico came along. 

Chico post-ride. You can see why they were amused.

The first ride out with Chico, I thought it might be his last. He chased after every living thing that moved, especially squirrels, dashing into the woods every time something rustled, squeaked or chirped. I didn’t bother, just stayed with the ride, following along behind the horses, only going off-trail to investigate something of the utmost importance, like a creek, or a spot where another dog had peed. You see, if you want to finish a 20+ km ride and not look like a bag of oatmeal with fur, you need to pace yourself. But anyway, to my surprise, Teresa & Nollind just laughed it off—what a funny dog Chico was, enjoying himself so immensely and exhausting himself in the process.

One of my favourite trails - Station Flats.

The second trail ride with Chico along, he chased after a deer, and I just couldn’t let him go on his own. Off we went into the woods, baying as we ran. Exhilerating! It was awhile before we gave up the chase and awhile longer before we found our way back to the horses. Teresa & Nollind weren’t laughing that time. They gave us a couple more chances but it seemed that each ride there was something to chase and off we’d go. I know, I could have stayed, and Chico might have stayed with me, but I couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. I didn’t want to be the old guy staying back and missing the fun.

A prairie ride last fall - more my speed these days.

And then the day came—it’s a few years ago now—the horses were tacked up, the saddle bags loaded, and we were put in the trailer and left there listening to the sound of hoof beats fade away down the trail. It was a sad day indeed. Admittedly, I find it hard to keep up with horses these days, even at a walk. Their walk is my jog and I just can’t jog for four or five hours straight anymore, in fact a couple of hours across the prairie normally has me limping. So, as angry as I was with Chico for spoiling what was a great gig, he saved me from having to admit defeat and retire in disgrace.

My comfy spot on the bench in the trailer. 

So I’ll just enjoy our “trail days” for what they are, a chance to sniff around a new location, put my feet in a mountain stream and watch out the trailer window as the horses and bikes and hikers come and go. And, lying there on the bench seat, I can dream about the trails I jogged, the many people I met and all the wondrous smells and sights I experienced in those seven years as trail dog extraordinaire.

Trailhead creek visit.

Close Encounter of the Coyote Kind

A reenactment.

Yep, I had a run-in with a coyote. I’ve been chasing them alongside Logan for the four years I’ve been living here and they’ve always outrun us, never allowed us to get very close, until last week. This one came after me, and he was quick, catching me in the back leg with his teeth. I’ve always thought of coyotes as just one more prairie varmint to chase, like gophers or rabbits or deer, harmless creatures that provide good sport. I didn’t really think about coyotes being canine like us, and therefore possessing their own big, sharp teeth and an instinct to fight, or even kill. I got bit in the nose by a gopher once—ouch—but it didn’t compare to the fear I felt when that coyote grabbed my back end.

Dinner with Chris & Sheila (photo compliments of Sheila).

And what did I do? Well, a bigger dog might have stayed to fight, but I ran home, as fast as my short legs would carry me. In fact, I ran so hard, so fast that I felt like I was going to have a heart attack by the time I got back to T and Nollind and their friends who were on the deck having dinner. After gulping down a bowl of water all I could do was lie there and pant, for an hour it seemed. And then, around 11 that night when I’d caught my breath and we were all tucked into bed, my stomach heaved, and then again. I was up four times overnight, T there with me, cleaning up and comforting me. I guess it was all the adrenaline, or maybe the gallon of water, but I couldn’t keep my stomach from lurching until about 4 in the morning.

The bite.

It was while T was petting me that night that she discovered the dried blood on my hip. The next morning when she cleaned things up, there they were, two holes in my upper leg, and we were off to the vet. Usually I see Dr. Julie, but she wasn’t there, so we saw Dr. Taryn. She seemed very nice at first, just as nice as Julie, but then she took me to a back room and put some kind of instrument up inside my wounds to see how deep they were and man that hurt. I couldn’t help but scream my head off. I’m sure the whole clinic heard me, including T who was waiting out by the reception desk. The vet tech took me back to T afterward and, when Dr. Taryn came out with my medications she said, "I don't think Chico loves me anymore." You got that right, lady.

Nollind icing his foot before the drilling.

Crazy thing was, while T and I were in town at the vet, Nollind got hurt when a horse stepped down hard on his foot. But, he was lucky, he didn't have to see a vet, all he had to do was drill a hole in his toenail and most of the pain just went away...after the blood gushed out. Nasty.

A few days later, and a better way to spend an evening.

My wounds have mostly healed now and I had my last dose of antibiotics this morning. There was coyote scent along the canal on Friday and I couldn’t help but get excited along with Logan. We were on leashes with no opportunity for a chase so I can’t say for sure if I would have or not. T says she hopes I learned my lesson, but I’m not sure I understand. People seem to regularly repeat things that cause them pain or distress so, in my quest to be human, I’m not sure I can turn away.

A Dog's Work is Never Done

Six weeks we’ve been home, and what a six weeks it’s been. We went from lounging in the shade of the RV and going for daily walks to long days working on the farm and in the city. You’re probably thinking, sure, long days for who? But when they work, we work, even if we don’t always do the same things. Here's the list:

Storm getting his last bath.

Four Sundays of bathing ten horses. Now I didn’t actually get in there and put shampoo on a horse, but I was nearby, keeping watch, keeping the other dogs in line, ready to jump in if a dog or horse got out of hand. Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary, but I still had to be there. Just because no ships crash doesn’t mean the lighthouse worker didn’t have to work.

On duty at Renfrew.

And then there were the renovations. Long days in a suite in Renfrew – cleaning, painting, changing flooring, adding new fixtures – it was exhausting – and I still have the paint on my fur to prove it.

Hours and hours of cutting down the caragana hedge and mulching it. Now they wouldn’t let me run the equipment but, again, I was supervising, from inside the house (I didn’t like the noise the chipper made).

Helping with year-end.

Year-end for the company, which means providing hours of support to Teresa in her office, always ready to jump in and provide a pleasant distraction if she got stuck or frustrated.

And when the final bath was given, the last pile of mulch was moved to the paddock, the tenant had taken possession of the suite, and the numbers were off to the accountant, I thought, “At last!” But then we were on the road to BC with a horse in tow.

Calypso getting a timbit (we got one too).

Surprisingly, it felt kind of good to be back on the road, watching the world roll by outside the truck window, Chico snoring on the seat beside me, “the pack” back together for a few days. The trip out with Calypso in the trailer was pretty much a straight through, keeping the journey as short as possible for her, so not much time for walks or exploring. We had about an hour of farm time at Calypso’s new home near Kelowna and then we were off to Levi and Ezra’s place for the night (technically it’s Ed & Betty’s place much like my house is Teresa & Nollind’s). It was a full evening of yard marking and playing and more yard marking. Poor Levi had to spend some kennel time because he was quite enamoured and kept getting up close and very personal with Chico. By bedtime I was exhausted; each of the other three dogs just half my age.

Off to the market!

The next day after breakfast we were headed north to Vernon to visit Teresa’s Aunt Frieda. We’d been to Frieda’s before, almost four years ago, when we headed out on our first winter journey, but during a whole week there we never actually had a chance to meet her (we stay on the property in our trailer). This year, she came driving with us, to the market, the apple orchard, and the bee place. I was hoping to get a good photo with her but Teresa forgot to organize it before Frieda was back inside the lodge so all I have is this one from inside the truck. Ah well, next time Frieda!

Chico's snow angel...seriously.

On the trip home we made a couple of stops, one up in Roger’sPass in the Selkirk Mountains. At just 4,360 feet, it’s not much of a climb compared to the crazy heights we’ve travelled to down south, but there was still some snow up there and we got out for a romp. Chico attempted to make a snow angel but, as you can see in the photo … it needs work.

Walking the canal.

We’re home again now and life has been a bit more relaxed than it was in April. Teresa takes us walking down the canal every couple of days and I love that. Yesterday was walk day but Chico and I got a little ahead of her and went on our own while she was feeding horses. She wasn’t very pleased when we came back all wet and dirty. She usually dries us off with towels and gives us breakfast after our walks but yesterday it was wait outside until you’re dry and then you can come in for breakfast.

I know, she looks all innocent, right?

They took Natalya (Nat), the house cat, to the vet on Friday. Seems she’s on the same drug as me now, the one they call my “bouncy juice”. I hope she doesn’t get as limber as I do. Even though she’s 18, she’s a pain in the butt and hard to keep in line. Damn cat thinks she runs the place. Chico and I will be headed outside and she’ll sit right there in the doorway, gazing off into space like she doesn’t see us needing past. And if you do run by her, what does she do? She swipes at you! Like I said, I hope the drugs don’t make her any feistier.

Well, I think I’m due for a nap, have to get my 14-16 hours in.

Home Sweet Farm!

Final night at Lake Mead

Some of you might have been wondering by now if we took a wrong turn at Albuquerque (now how many dogs do you know who can spell Albuquerque correctly – twice?). But we didn’t, didn’t even go through that way this year. It was straight up the I15 home, the most direct route. There’d been a lot of talk about slowly travelling through California and Oregon as we made our way north, visiting a place called Cannon Beach where T wanted to take us for a walk, but in the end we stayed at Lake Mead just as long as we could and drove home through Utah, Idaho and Montana.

Heading for dinner at the Red Iguana
(looking very happy even though I couldn't go with them)

We left Lake Mead just after sunrise on a Sunday morning, stopped for lunch at a rest area near the entrance to Zion National Park, and then continued on to Salt Lake City where T and Nollind had a dinner date. They’d been talking about it for days, The Red Iguana, and I was so hoping it was one of those places that allowed dogs. But, no such luck, and apparently the food was so good they ate all of it, didn’t even bring me a taster. We continued north after dinner, crossing into Idaho and parking in another rest area, this one near Malad City. It was chilly when we hopped out of the truck, and chillier the next morning when we went for a short walk. It wasn’t the kind of chilly we experienced in January in Montana, but to this desert dog it felt mighty cold (I think I might be developing an American accent).

Just two cars to wait for at the border

As usual, I slept most of the journey so can’t tell you a lot about it, but I know the weather was fine and the roads were dry every time I sat up and looked out the window, and there wasn’t a speck of snow other than high in the mountains. We got to Great Falls, Montana by mid-afternoon Monday and, once we were parked at Dick’s, T and Nollind headed off to do some shopping. They always pick up a few things from Western Ranch Supply and Big R (now North 40 Outfitters), usually things for the horses or the farm. Even with the low dollar (I do pay attention to the news) they can still save money on things like electric fencing, dewormer and buckets.

Looking for ducks in the wetland

Looking at the weather forecast that night, there was talk of delaying the trip home for a day or two because of the high winds but, instead, we were up and driving by 5:30 to stay ahead of it. And we did…just. There was nobody lined up at the border so we were in Lethbridge by 9:00 and things were still calm when we got out to stretch our legs. Less than an hour up the road, we could feel the west wind pushing on the side of the rig, and by the time we rolled into the farm around 12:30, it was blowing around 30-40 km/hour. Within an hour, it was somewhere in the 50-70 range with a few gusts hitting up to 90 so they were all three glad to be parked, especially Logan who was remembering the tipping warnings from last year’s drive through Wyoming.

I think I can smell home

And me, was I glad to be home? I was, and still am, but I also miss the road. T and Nollind are so busy here and there’s so much competition for their time and attention. That’s one part of being human I can live without -- no time for naps. The horses always take a bunch of their time but, even after a winter of being sprayed with insecticides, they still have cooties so are more demanding than ever since we’ve been home. We’ve been on a few walks and they took me to Strathmore one day to the vet (I love going to see Julie and she told me the bump on my head is nothing to worry about) but other than that we’ve been left mostly to our own devices. I’ve spent a lot of time hunting gophers, but this morning Logan and I ran off into the fields for an hour or so and had the greatest of times. I’m not sure T was as pleased as we were, and now Logan can hardly walk with that bad elbow of his, so I feel kind of bad.

Walking the back twenty

T and Nollind proclaimed today “Sid Day” (Sid is the name of our fifth wheel for those who’ve forgotten). Sid Day is apparently when they set aside the farm chores, the Calgary renovation project, the year end, the horse sale tasks, and the cootie problem and just hang out with us, watch some TV, take a nap, putter around the house and, yay, help me with my blog. These Sid Days could easily become my favourite days of the month...or week (not sure how often they’ll come around but I’m hoping).

Aaaahhhhh.....

Logan and I plan to keep up the blog writing here at home since life is a grand adventure wherever we are. In fact, I hear we might be heading west with the horse trailer soon, delivering Calypso to her new home. Sounds like a great road trip to me! And of course I’ll keep you apprised of my quest for humanness although, today, being a dog is feeling mighty fine.

Who Knew They Could Swim?

Sharing a cone in Pahrump's Petrack Park
(say that three times fast)

Four hours. They spent four hours at the Las Vegas Outlet Mall while Chico and I waited back at the trailer. Now we were cool and comfy, napping on the bed, that’s not the issue, but you know what the next stop was? Petco. Guess how long they spent there. Go on, guess. You’d think at least an hour to peruse the many things we might need or want, but no, ten minutes! Teresa was in and out in ten minutes carrying half a dozen cans of food. Good food mind you, the Blue Buffalo kind I like best, but still.

Can still get all four off the ground!

Campsite at Lake Mead

I forgave them when we reached our next camp though. We were boondocking again, which I prefer to RV park life, and this spot had a huge body of water – Lake Mead. We arrived right at sunset so didn’t have much time to explore but it looked very promising. We’d been at the Nevada Treasure RV Resort for nine days by this time and I was ready for some outdoor-off-leash-long-walks-lying-under-the-trailer time. Don’t get me wrong, town life has it’s perks, like sharing an ice cream or playing in a grassy park, I just prefer the wide open spaces.

We’ve been here at the Lake Mead National Recreation Area four days now and my initial impression was bang-on. The tie-up cables haven’t even left the storage compartment and we’ve been walking the lakeshore and swimming every day. We got a second swim

Morning stroll and swim

in yesterday, in the late afternoon, and the strangest thing happened. Chico and I went in and got our legs wet and had a drink (I’d been lying under the trailer all afternoon so wasn’t terribly hot). When we came back on shore Nollind walked out into the water and started swimming, and then Teresa did the same! They swam out a ways and then turned to look back at us and I’m sure we were both staring with our mouths hanging open. I didn’t know they could swim, or even liked water other than showers and hot tubs. We walk in some pretty hot weather at home and Teresa never joins us in the canal. They called to us to join them but I think we were too shocked to do anything but sit and stare. They splashed around awhile, came ashore to dry us all off and we hiked back up the bank to our camp like it was an everyday occurrence. We went walking this morning and things were back to normal with us swimming and them on the shore watching. It seems more natural.

Final days of southern sunshine

It’s hot here, 32C yesterday and supposed to be a few degrees warmer today, but I’m either getting used to the weather down here or the thought of colder temperatures is making the sun feel a little more inviting. I’m sure by this afternoon I’ll be in the shade but that Nevada sun is feeling pretty fine this morning. Maybe my bones can soak up enough to get me through a cool, damp spring if we have one. I hear we’re headed that direction tomorrow so I don’t have much time. We have sun at home of course, it’s just not as warm at this time of year and there’s always the threat of snow and cold when you live just east of the Rocky Mountains. We can go from sunbathing to snow shovelling so fast it’ll make your tail spin.

Three days in the truck – not sure how that’s going to go. Well, actually, I have a pretty good idea. But I am going to try to find that Zen space I slipped into on the way to Yuma. I’m a brave guy. How hard can it be?

Logan's Oasis

Logan's Oasis

I don’t know how he did it in this dry, treeless place but, against all odds, Logan managed to conjure up water and shade and sand for our stop after Borrego. Nollind sometimes says T has the ability to conjure things up, like barn cats, so maybe Logan learned it from her. We weren’t five minutes out of the truck and he was in the river…and swimming! He’s half lab so that shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise except that he rarely swims. Back home on the canal, Logan goes in the water about as far as he needs to to cool his feet and quench his thirst. He’ll swim if there’s an urgent reason to get to the other side, but otherwise, just in until his belly touches. But at that camp spot along the Colorado River he was in up to his neck and paddling around like a puppy. 

Heading in for a swim at Logan's Oasis

He’s a good guy my roommate, although I had to get to know him before I thought so. T and Nollind and Logan came to pick me up for a temporary stay with them until Misty Creek Dog Rescue could find me a permanent home (turned out they were it!). I’m the same colour as their Appaloosa horse Nevada, which is why T noticed me amongst the many photos of dogs on the Misty Creek web site. Anyway, they took me for a little walk that first day, I think to see how Logan and I would get along.

Nevada - see the resemblance?

That went well so off we went in the truck. I didn’t know what the heck was going on when Logan started shaking and panting and drooling in the back seat, so I put my paw on his head and sent him my best “hey dude, relax, we’re fine” vibe. It didn’t work, but I think he appreciated the gesture. It wasn’t until we got to the house that things went a little sideways, he wasn’t crazy about another male dog on his turf and I don’t like being pushed around by alpha dogs. So, I peed on one of his walls, sent a strong message I thought. He hurried over to lay down cover and, oops, was spotted by T who gave him a right royal scolding. Funny thing was, things got better after that, and with each passing day I developed a stronger respect for his quiet, alpha ways and his farm wisdom. I’d had many bigger, male dogs try to intimidate me but he never did that, just quietly let me know he was in charge.

Cottonwood trail walk

So there at the Colorado River I was happy to see him find the oasis in the desert he’d been dreaming of. He gets hot much more easily than I do, and his pads get sore on the rocks and, although he’s tough as nails in many ways, he is 11 and not the resilient guy he once was. I still put my paw on him in the truck now and then and it still doesn’t make him okay, but I think he appreciates it, like I appreciate his friendship. You see, a lot of dogs don’t seem to like me very much for some reason, but he sticks by me, even when we’re playing and I just can’t seem to stop myself from barking in his face. He could bite me, or growl, but he just stops and stands and pulls his ears back against his head (probably because I’m hurting them) and waits for me to shut up.

Working on my sunset appreciation at Kelso Dunes

We spent two days at Logan`s oasis and he got to swim both days, lie in the shade of the big trees beside our camp and walk on sandy soil through a forest of cottonwoods along the river. Yes, cottonwoods! Only Logan could conjure up cottonwoods in the middle of the desert. You could see the light come on in his eyes and he`s been happier ever since. We spent the next few days at the Kelso Dunes and the hot sun didn`t seem to faze him.

The Death Valley photo I'll show my friends ;)

We`re at an RV park in Pahrump, Nevada now and it`s been pretty relaxing. It seems this is T`s oasis and she`s gone over to the swimming pool every day. One day she and Nollind headed off to a place called Death Valley, one of those national parks down here that doesn`t allow dogs anywhere beyond the parking lots. It sounds like it would have been way too hot for Logan (+38!) but I don`t mind the heat and would have loved to go along. They left us in the trailer with the air conditioning on and Logan was in heaven. It was a bit on the chilly side for me at just 22 degrees Celsius.

Each of us lying in our favourite spot

I prefer to lie in the sun when I have the chance. I guess that`s why one of my nicknames is “Sunny D”.

A Little Desert Weary

Borrego campsite

It’s been my kind of travel these past twelve days – one campsite, plenty of walks, off-leash freedom, and minimal truck time. We’ve been camped here at Anza-Borrego State Park since February 25, well technically just outside the park near Clark Dry Lake. It’s been just about perfect, we even had some cool, rainy weather for a few days which suited me just fine. It’s turned hot the past couple of days, around +30 in the afternoon, which is too hot for this black dog. If we were home I’d go lie in the basement on my futon in this kind of weather. Here I lie under the trailer but, unless there’s a breeze, it’s not nearly as cool as that basement I'm dreaming of. I think I’m starting to feel a little homesick, missing my farm and my daily routine there. I hope things haven’t gotten too out of control without me there to keep order. I hope my girlfriends across the road haven’t forgotten me. What am I saying? Of course they haven’t. 

Ruffwear boots made for ruff terrain.

The walks here have been rocky so they’ve been putting boots on me every day. In case some of you are thinking I’m soft, here’s a picture of what we walk on each morning in the hills for an hour or two. Not sure how my little red friend does it without protection, but my pads just won’t stand for it. I’m looking forward to going bootless on the prairie, or maybe even before then if we travel to places with friendlier soil.

An afternoon at Christmas Circle

We did find one little reprieve from the harsh desert, Christmas Circle Park in Borrego Springs. After weeks of mostly sand and rock, green grass felt like the most luxurious of carpets to lie on. We spent an afternoon listening to some live music in the park and were back again for a market a few days later. I wasn’t excited about the market idea, too many people, but it wasn’t so crowded that I was getting stepped on and many of the people seemed interested in saying hello and giving a pet. And, of course, there was that lovely grass and plenty of shady places.

At the Farmers' Market.

On the patio at El Borrego Restaurant

I’d have to say they’re generally pretty dog friendly in the town of Borrego Springs with a couple of the restaurants even allowing us on their patios. On market day we had lunch at El Borrego, a Mexican restaurant just off Christmas Circle with a huge, shady patio that welcomes those of us with four legs. The patio even has a carpeted floor and it doesn’t get much dog friendlier than that. The people were nice, and apparently the food was good. I’m not much of a shrimp taco or bean eater so I passed on any of the offered bites. Chico, of course, sat and stared through Teresa and Nollind’s lunch and then went to the end of his leash and stared down the neighbours after that. I don't know why they take him out in public. In the photo at the market you can see him pulling toward something, very likely a food vendor. 

Play time on Clark Dry Lake

The Anza-Borrego State Park is much less dog friendly, not allowing us on their trails even with a leash on, something about us scaring the Bighorn Sheep away. I suppose it’s possible, but I doubt it given the number of coyotes in the park. We hear them every night and I’m sure the sheep do too. If canine types were going to chase them out of the park by simply walking on their trails, they’d be long gone by now. And, from what I hear, big cats are a much greater threat than any of us from genus canis. But anyway, the rules is the rules and Teresa always scouts out places where we can walk.

Mel and her tiny human

The day we were listening to music in the park we bumped into a friend of Nollind’s from the sailing club who happened to be travelling through Borrego with his wife and baby on a two-month trip. They were sure surprised to see each other. Frank and Mel and the little guy brought their trailer up to Dry Clark Lake and camped a short distance from us, they shared a couple of meals (including steaks which was great for Chico and me) sat around the fire and went off on some hikes. I’m not normally a big fan of tiny humans but, you know, this one was alright. Usually I find their movements and sounds too unpredictable for me to be comfortable but this guy was always held by one of his parents and was mostly quiet other than a few burbling sounds. Apparently humans are pretty helpless (and therefore harmless) at four months. I'm not surprised.

Ouch!

Two days ago it was bath day followed by a short drive to the State Park campground where they dumped and filled tanks. I’m thinking that means we’ll be headed out soon. It’s been great here but between the hot temperatures and the piece of cactus I picked up this morning, I think I’m ready to move on. I’m hoping for a cool, shaded oasis with sandy trails and a place to swim.