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.

Lettuce Isn't Food

Getting ready to meet the people!

Fountain of Youth Spa (FOY)--what an awesome place to study human behaviour. I can lie in camp and watch people go by all day long and then meet half a dozen in one short trip to the bathroom. You’ve heard the Michael Bublé song “Haven’t Met You Yet”? My theme song. Anyway, the RV park has 1000 sites, more than 100 in the dry camping area alone! That’s where we camp, at the top of the park, in the dry lot. It’s not fancy but it’s close to the trails and the sunset views are fantastic. 

FOY sunset.

I’m learning to appreciate sunsets, even though my eyes can’t see the same spectrum of colours that human eyes can. Sunset watching is a daily ritual at FOY, as is morning walking, afternoon napping and evening pool time; although, pool time was for humans only. How I would have loved a swim after our morning walks in the desert. The rule is “no dogs within 20 feet of any building”, which just seems downright prejudiced to me. I’m much tidier and better behaved than many humans I’ve met, especially the small ones. Now don’t take that the wrong way, I have an inexplicable fondness for the little guys, and I don’t think it’s just because of the height at which they hold their food.

Exploring an abandoned cottage on one of our hikes.

Food, there was a ton of great food while we were at FOY. With the exception of the little on-site cantina, Freddy’s Fountain, it’s an hour to a restaurant so all eating was done at the trailer, which was perfect for me. You see, I’m doing my best to sample and develop a taste for all human food. I eat things Logan won’t even look at and, you know, most of it’s pretty good. Fruit, vegetables, bread, condiments, you name it, I’ll eat it.

Contemplating life.

How many times have I heard T or Nollind say, “He probably won’t like that because it’s all covered with...insert condiment name”? Admittedly, some of them are a bit odd, like pickled things, but not terrible. Now there is one human food item, and a common one, that I just can’t seem to develop a taste for. It doesn’t even taste like food, just sits there all cold and flat on my tongue. Lettuce. When it’s dripping with salad dressing or tucked inside a piece of burger it goes down more easily but I continue to try it undressed. My thought is, if I’ll eat anything they do and can sit in a chair, one of these days they’re going to set a place at the dinner table for me. One day…

Ready to go to work.

One of the other ways I get to try human foods, and help around the house at the same time, is to pre-clean the dishes. The instant I hear a plate or bowl or pot being scraped, I am there to assist. And I know they appreciate it, especially out here in the desert where we need to conserve water. They call me Pre-Wash. Not every dog has a work title, so I’m pretty proud of that. However, there is one kitchen tool that is hindering my work and competing for my job, the spatula! As soon as I get my paws on it, that thing is history.

On the job - pots are hard work.

After a week of hanging at FOY we headed to the city for a few days and stayed in another casino parking lot, Fantasy Springs in Indio. It was noisier than Quechan, right on the I10, but there was plenty of room and a nice open desert area to walk in next door. I assumed the city meant a bunch of trailer time for Logie and me but did I get a surprise. The second day T & Nollind took us along (all day!) and one of the stops was PetSmart. OMG–I was in heaven, getting to do my own shopping. Now they didn’t buy everything I picked out, but I understood, given our slightly small living space at present, and the fact that PetSmart has EVERYTHING a dog could want. For that half hour I felt like being a dog was maybe okay after all, and there were other dogs in there doing their shopping too, almost like we were equals for a moment. Sigh.

At PetSmart

T and Nollind had late lunch at a Mexican place and we were allowed there too, but it wasn’t going to be very comfortable on the hard, tile floor of the narrow patio, and the truck had a nice shady parking spot so they decided we’d be happier there. Probably true for Logan, he’s getting old and doesn’t like hard surfaces to lie on, but I would have sat on broken glass for a chance to get in on the ceviché and quesadilla. I’ve never had either and I love seafood. Logan doesn’t much like fish so he would have been grumpy all-round. I think I’d have even tried the margaritas...if they'd offered.

Top of the trail at Homme-Adams Park.

We ended the day with this great hike at Homme-Adams Park, where the trail took us up a hillside that looked out over Palm Desert below. Wow, what a day. When T and Nollind headed out dancing later that night I didn’t even mind. I was content to stay home and sleep. And okay, I admit, dancing kind of freaks me out a little. I never know what to do when they dance.

Play time at Anza-Borrego

We left the Coachella Valley yesterday and came here to the Anza-Borrego desert. We were already off leash for some play time last night and again today. Freedom! Nothing makes me feel less human than being leashed. I have a good feeling about this stop and I hear we’re staying awhile.

Hiking, Horses and Hazardous Places

Hiking Majestic Trail

Wickenburg was hiking, hiking and more hiking, but don’t take that as a complaint…absolutely not. I love to get out and walk, and trot, and run, or just go at whatever pace my leash allows. Here in the desert, I don’t actually mind the leash, because it’s often too warm or rocky or filled with spikey plants to want to do more than a slow jog anyway. We spent nine days camped near Wickenburg and we hiked for two hours every day, and only once did we cover the same trail. Wanderlust doggie paradise! Some days we did two hours in the morning, other days an hour in the morning and another hour around sunset. I sure appreciated the attention to walking in the cool hours. Have you ever tried wearing a black fur coat on a hot, sunny day? Ya, well, I don’t recommend it. When I was young it seemed like a smart idea to be well-dressed for any occasion, but that was before we started spending winters in the south.

Crazy big spurs on the way to Congress.

Another plus about the stay in Wickenburg…no truck time other than a short road trip to Congress, Yarnell and Peeples Valley. And it wasn’t so bad, just 20 miles or so and a nice walk around Yarnell before lunch.

The horse camp.

For two days the camping area across the road from us filled to the brim with horses, horse trailers and horse people. If I wasn't such an honest guy, I'd tell you I was hoping we were joining in on one of the trail rides, ready and raring to go, but I wasn't. Following a group of horses through the desert in the heat all day was not something I was keen to do. I was so relieved when Teresa and Nollind just watched them ride by as they headed into the hills. Embarrassment averted.

Oops, didn't realize the camera was above me.

On our last day in camp, Tuesday, I was lying on the couch when I heard a familiar sound. I could hardly believe my ears. It sounded just like our old truck, the one we drove south the last two trips. But how could that be? Chico heard it too and wondered if it had somehow followed us. Right dude, that’s what happened. He’s so young. Anyway, we all went outside and there it was, Rocky the Chev. Even more surprising was who climbed out…our friend Darren! What a terrific surprise! I was sorry he hadn’t brought Roxy with him (one of my many girlfriends) but happy to see him nonetheless. It was a day of hanging in the shade and visiting followed by a long walk late in the afternoon up to Vulture Peak.

Post-hike nap.

The drive to Yuma on Wednesday was remarkably relaxing. I’m not sure what came over me but I seemed to find some kind of weird zen state and didn't suffer the usual uncontrollable shaking and panting. I think I even nodded off for a bit. But don’t tell Nollind. I don’t want him thinking I’ve stopped supervising his driving. No telling what would happen.

Smiling like fools after Mexican food and margaritas
in Los Algodones.

For the next three days we stayed in the Quechan Casino RV parking area just across the border into California and a stone's throw from the Mexican border. I hardly slept. Did you know that the Canadian and U.S. governments have had travel advisories in place for Mexico for years, especially the border regions? And where do my people decide to set up camp...a 5-minute drive from the border crossing to Los Algodones. They even went down there one day, leaving Chico and I at the trailer. I spent the day devising a plan for our rescue if they didn't return. They did, laughing and smiling and carrying packages. You'd think they'd just been on a little shopping outing. You know, I started to believe their assurances of safety until the smoke and gunfire started. Seriously...there were clouds of smoke billowing into camp from the Mexico side of the border and on the last day regular gunshots coming from somewhere to the south. It may have been still on the U.S. side but it didn't matter to me. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. Teresa opened the truck door yesterday morning and I almost knocked her over jumping in.

We've moved further north now, to an RV resort on the Salton Sea that we visited last year. The air is clear and so far I've not heard a single shot--slept like a puppy last night.

Boondogging

Since we’ve known each other three years now, I’ve decided to let you in on a little secret…I’m studying to be human. People think I’m just friendly and devoted, which I am, but I’m also closely observing human behaviour and communication. I know, it probably sounds crazy, but last winter T read a book called “The Art of Racing in the Rain” about a dog named Enzo who believes that if he learns enough in his dog life, he’ll come back as a human. Sounded like a reasonable theory, but I guess I’m not that patient; I want to get as close to human as I can in this life.

First bath of the trip.

I still have a lot of canine urges that I may never overcome, but travelling has done just what people say it will, expanded my thinking. It’s part of the reason I love these trips, so much opportunity to learn about being human and leave my farm dog tendencies behind on the farm. For example, one of the human-like things that happens while we’re travelling more frequently than at home is taking showers. I’m a pretty clean guy, not indulging in the disgusting canine habit of rolling in foul smelling things, so I rarely get a bath at home, but living in such close quarters without green grass or snow to roll in, apparently I develop a bit of an odour, an odour they’ve compared to corn chips and also to socks. Don’t see what’s wrong with either of those things, especially corn chips but, whatever, a bath results in one of my very favourite experiences, being towelled dry. A lot of dogs prefer to give a good shake and dry in the sun, but I love the towelling…oh my…could do that all day. And afterward, apparently I smell better, less like a dog, which also suits my purpose.

Campsite near Wickenburg.

We left Quartzsite on Monday morning and drove two hours here to Wickenburg. Birds, rabbits, lizards, coyotes…this place is amazing. But, even though we’re out here in the boonies, my freedom has been curtailed from what it was at Quartzsite, something about jackrabbits and cactus being a bad combination is what I’ve pulled from the conversation. They’re probably right, as hard as I try to just observe as humans do, it’s almost impossible for me to not give chase.

Hiking at Vulture Peak.

We’re boondocking, which Wiktionary describes as “to stay in a recreational vehicle in a remote location, without connections to water, power, or sewer services”,  about six kilometres from Wickenburg but, looking around, you’d never know we were so close to town. There are a couple of horse campers across the road and three RVs on this side but quite a long way from us. There’s not much but saguaro, mesquite, palo verde and cholla around us, and the odd quad or side-by-side headed up the road to the trails that snake all over the area. We’ve been on longs walks the last two mornings, exploring up around Vulture Peak, with many more trails to cover while we’re here.

Nollind plays bass at Plomosa Road.

It might sound kind of boring hanging in the desert but, not at all. Nollind plays his bass and sometimes T plays along on guitar and sings. I'm tempted to sing too but so far they haven't asked me to join in. They both like to read and do quite a bit of that and, when possible, I’ll read over a shoulder and pick up what I can. I wish they'd just read out loud. Some days T or Nollind, or both, will take an afternoon nap and that's the best. I can lie on the bed anytime but it is a million times better when my people are there too. And then there's sunset viewing along with a campfire, one of my favourite times of day.

Aaaahhhh...an afternoon nap.

When we’re outside, Logan likes to lie under the trailer. It’s cool, it has that nice, den-like feel that appeals to dogs, but you’d never find a human under there unless there’s something to fix. So, on our first trip south I sat and stared and whined until they figured out what I wanted…my own chair. It would be so much simpler if I could just talk but the shape of my tongue (long, flat and loose) makes that impossible, or so says Enzo. I’ve developed quite a large vocabulary of sounds but none of them sound like human words. Anyway, I now have my own chair that comes out with T and Nollind’s chairs at every campsite. Success!

Sunset time in camp.

This year T added a blanket that acts like a hammock, keeping me from spilling out between the arm and the bottom (and it makes a nice cover on a chilly evening). Now, don’t get me wrong, I can sit upright, I’m just more comfortable curled in a ball. I can strive to be as human as I want in my mind and behaviour, but I do have certain physiological limitations.

My very canine response to a threat.

Okay, I suppose I deserved it. I told you about Logan’s bingo dauber episode at Lethbridge, and he shares my embarrassing donkey moment. But, in my defense, I was just trying to like what T likes and I saw her petting one of them. Sometimes a guy has to do frightening things when on a quest for greater knowledge. Logan disagrees with me on this but then he’s very content with his dogness.

I’m not sure what we’re doing this afternoon. Since we stayed in camp all day yesterday I’m betting on some kind of outing. Hopefully it’s the kind that dogs can join in on. I do like to ride along and glean what I can.

So I Guess I'm Not Magellan

I’d like to tell you Chico was wrong and I’m doing just fine, but I can’t. I’m just not sure the world explorer shtick is for me. I like being in the truck with my people and new places to walk are fun, but I just can’t stop shaking and panting when we start to roll down the highway. The panting makes me thirsty, the shaking turns my breakfast into purée and I don’t sleep for hours on end. By the time we get to our destination I’m dehydrated, exhausted and I have the runs. You can see why I might be questioning my aptitude for travel.

Chico with a new dog park friend.

Las Vegas is a pretty good place for me. We go to the dog park every day which is only a five minute drive away. I barely get up to full panting speed and we’re there. But this year, on one of our last visits, I gave in to my urges and grabbed another dog’s tennis ball that had been rolling around on the ground. It didn’t taste like anything was amiss but it sent my digestive system into turmoil and now I’m getting some kind of white powder added to my daily meal. At home I drink from murky puddles in the paddock and chew on bones that have been rotting in the dirt for a month, but it’s a different deal down here, a whole new world of flora and fauna.

Checking out the sign after the donkey encounter.

While waiting for the trailer to be repaired in Vegas, we went on a day trip over to Oatman, Arizona. It’s an old gold mining town up in the hills not far from Laughlin, Nevada, known for its eclectic nature and, oddly enough, its wild donkeys. Now the donkeys aren’t technically wild, since they were released by the miners when the mines closed in 1941, and they’re definitely not wild now as you can see in the photo, but they are free roaming and spend their nights out in the desert after a day of mooching alfalfa cubes in the streets of Oatman. Now although I’ve never actually met a donkey, I have heard about their aversion to canines, but this was all new for Chico. I think he figured they were just small horses with big ears and, before he had a chance to read the warning sign, he had two of them come over to check him out -- closely. Hackles up, he shot out from under their curious noses, probably just in the nick of time, and kept his distance after that. 

The "wild" burros of Oatman.

On top of Q Mountain.

We’ve been out in the Arizona desert at Quartzsite since last Friday. Now this I like -- quiet, some off-leash freedom around camp, daily walks that don’t involve trucks and busses roaring by like they’re bound for Indy, and day trips that include some kind of hike, like Wednesday’s walk up Q Mountain in Quartzsite or yesterday’s trip to Buckskin Mountain. We were at Buckskin Mtn State Park last year, and we hiked further, but I don’t recall the uphill feeling quite so steep or the day feeling so hot and thirsty. Probably just the current state of my bowels, nothing to do with my 11 years of age.

Hiking at Buckskin Mtn State Park

We spent time with some RVing friends on Sunday, Sue and Leon from Sacramento. We met them three years ago when they camped beside us at Fortuna Pond near Yuma. We spent about a week there together, sitting around the fire, playing ladder ball (the people, not the dogs, although I’m sure I could have managed what looked like a dirt simple game) and I liked hanging out under their motorhome. This year they were camped at Scaddan Wash just east of Quartzsite so we drove out for an afternoon of visiting with them and their friends Jim and Kitty.

Chico photo-bombing Teresa & Sue's pic.

While we were there I got an idea for a book I want to write: “1,000,000 Ways to Die on the Road”. Catchy don’t you think? I’ve always known about the dangers of simply riding in one of these machines humans have invented for getting around, but last year I found out that trailers can get blown over in a strong wind (not that it actually happened to us), and on Sunday at Sue and Leon’s I learned that propane tanks blow up. Seriously? We sit outside right next to the tank that powers the gas campfire, and two larger ones are housed inside a door at the front of the fifth wheel, and they could just blow up? And just what does that look like? I found out what it sounds like and I certainly didn’t enjoy that. There we were, enjoying the Arizona sun when KABOOM from some distant campsite. They thought it was probably someone’s propane tank exploding because, you know, that happens. Again…seriously?! Okay, so it’s extremely rare, but it makes me wonder what else they’re not telling me.

Yes, that's my tongue. The teeth that should keep it in while
I'm sleeping were removed by a horse.

For now, things are all quiet in the desert, nothing exploding, nothing popping, banging, beeping or chirping, and so…I sleep.

And We're Off!

After more than two weeks of delays, we finally hit the road on Monday the 12^th, bound for warmer climes, but it only got colder as we headed south and in Great Falls, Montana it was almost 20 below after the sun went down. I wasn’t worried though, we have Sid the fifth wheel and he’s warm like the house. We parked at Dick's RV Park and while T and Nollind got the trailer ready, Logan and I waited in the truck which was cooling off quickly. I couldn’t see what was going on because the windows were fogging up, but there seemed to be some sort of trouble with setting up the trailer, and then I heard Nollind cursing. Oh oh, that was never a good sign.

Tucked in for a cold first night on the road.

But Sid was fine when we went inside, other than the part that slides out and makes the living room bigger seemed to be at a bit of an angle. No worries though, plenty of room for my bed and food dish. What concerned me more was the temperature – the floor was like ice, the couch was hard and I could see my breath – but the furnace was roaring and the electric fireplace was on so I knew it was only temporary. T fed us dinner and they went to find food for themselves, leaving us to heat up the place. We did our best, but two hours later when they came home, despite the furnace running constantly, the thermometer still said only six. Now that’s not bad for a running around outdoors temperature, but it’s a little chilly for hanging out and sleeping. T messed with the fireplace, Nollind went outside and did something with the propane tanks and I was hopeful. They always fix things for us. Logan and I cuddled into the couch, T put a blanket over us and I drifted off to sleep dreaming of the sunshine and palm trees down the road.

That's me under the covers!

I woke up early, shivering. The trailer was still only +8 and the blanket was on the floor. I heard voices in the bedroom so I headed up there seeking warmth. Just a few whimpers and T invited me onto the bed and then (I couldn't believe it) under the covers with her! There I was in the flannel sheets snuggled up to T’s fleece jammies with the polar bears on them. I’ve never been allowed under the covers before and I enjoyed every single minute, even staying in bed after T and Nollind got up. But I was worried about T, that maybe the cold had affected her mind. When she got up she put her clothes on right over top of her fleece pj’s which I’ve never seen her do before, and then they went out for breakfast with her dressed like that. Yikes.

Pants over PJs?

I assumed we’d head out as soon as they got back from eating since the trailer was still so cold but it turned out we had to stick around and wait for a repairman. I guess the crooked slide was more of a problem than I thought. Fortunately, as the morning warmed up, the propane was able to flow properly and the furnace started to work better, and by late morning we were cozy warm and the sun was shining in. When Brett the repairman came at 1:00, he couldn’t fix the slide for us, but he did help Nollind get it pushed back in so we could travel, and we were on our way south on the I-15!

Logan hasn’t been having a great trip. He’d probably be mad if he knew I was telling you, but he’s just not travelling well. On the first day, we stopped in Lethbridge for fuel and human lunch (why don’t we get lunch?) and while T and Nollind were in the restaurant Logan just wouldn’t sit still. He usually settles right down once the truck is parked but he was up and down and back and forth…drove me crazy!

He looks okay (his stoic thing) but check out that OMG eye.

Then I realized why, poor dude had to poop, badly, and was leaving little brown bingo dauber marks all over the Soggy Dog seat cover every time he sat down. I watched in the direction T and Nollind had gone, trying to send them mental messages to hurry back. At last, there they came down the street, I was saved. But what do you think Logan did when they climbed in the truck? Nothing! He just sat there like all was well. He is way too stoic for his own good. Luckily for all of us, we drove only as far as the gas station and T took us out for a walk while Nollind filled the tank.

Help, he's lying on me!

Logan just barely made it to the first snow bank to drop this huge, nasty pile of brown goo. Wow, had to give him credit for holding that in as long as he had. Once Nollind had the seat cover cleaned up, we were off again, with my backseat companion much more settled the rest of the day. We all thought maybe it was going to be a better trip for him, and therefore me, but you can see in the photo what was happening by the next day. I don’t think he does it for comfort, I wouldn’t mind that, he just decides he wants to be somewhere and it doesn’t matter if I’m already occupying that spot. At one point I climbed into the front seat to get away from him but T and Nollind didn’t let me stay too long perched there on the console. There’s plenty of room, I didn’t see what the issue was. Maybe once I get my first travel bath and a few brushings I’ll be more welcome up front. Either that or my shaky, drooly companion will figure out that travelling is the bomb and he should just enjoy it like I do.

Vegas sunshine!

We had one more night of winter in Idaho Falls, although it was much warmer than Great Falls, and now we’re in Las Vegas and I see palm trees out the trailer window. We’re waiting for a repairman again, but I don’t mind so much without the snow and cold. We should be heading to the desert any day now and I can hardly wait for those long morning walks and naps in the sun. Arizona here I come!

January 7th and Waiting

Waiting...

The fifth wheel has been sitting up near the house for a long time now and for a while Teresa was regularly taking things in and out with bins and boxes filling all over the house. There was talk of the 27^th of December for heading south, but then the horses had a visit from the vet on Christmas Eve and that was the end of that. The next departure date was set for New Year’s Day, but on the Monday after Christmas they hauled a couple of the horses off to another vet and were suddenly talking about the 8^th.

Storm getting his New Year's bath.

On the last day of the year they started giving baths to the horse herd with five of them done on that day and the other six the next. Bathing eleven 1,000 lb animals in freezing temperatures seemed like an odd way to celebrate the new year but apparently the horses have some kind of cooties. In the event it's something transferable to dogs, I'm glad I only come in contact with the backs of their heels now and then when I’m herding one of them. I’ll pass on the itchy skin and missing hair.

Ready for the -30C windchills.

Until recently, I didn't see the need to go anywhere this winter because the weather's been so warm and snow-free. Although we did have one nasty stretch back in late November when we had to wear the dreaded jackets a few times. I don’t mind so much if it makes my people feel better about taking us outside since I’m all about the outdoors, but Chico rolls around and rubs himself on everything he walks past as if the thing is strangling him. If he were human I’m sure he’d be a nudist. And if you think that's funny, you should see him when they put boots on his feet -- more effective than hobbling a horse! He won’t even move for food, which I didn’t think was possible without hog-tying him. He moves like lightning if I drop even a morsel of something I'm eating. I admit I did feel for the little guy when Teresa and Nollind got laughing so hard they were wiping tears from their faces. Poor dude, standing there in the kitchen in my new boots, a ring of treats around him just out of reach. Good thing he’s got tough paws and doesn’t need protection from the volcanic rock in the Arizona desert.

The travel delay doesn’t really bother me. I get to sleep in my own bed, explore my home turf and chase off any coyotes who dare enter my domain, and I don’t have to ride in the four-wheeled death trap. They assure me this new truck will be quieter and therefore less scary than the old one, but it probably goes just as fast, maybe even faster since it’s supposed to be more powerful, and I'm guessing those monstrous rigs with their freaky jake brakes still roar up and down the interstate highways south of the border.

Checking out the Coyote Freeway

I admit, I miss going for walks when it’s cold like it has been for this past week, and in the desert we walk for 1-2 hours every day. If only I could get there without the days of terrifying truck travel. How I envy Chico his ability to sleep most of the way. They once put me to sleep to have some dental work done (got a little too close to the horse’s heels that day) and it would be ideal to have some of whatever was in that needle to get me down to Arizona. Although, who would keep an eye on the road.