Dogs
I proceeded to get a
dog. You can start laughing now.
Now, I walked by this
dog's pen for four months. He officially belonged to my landlady’s
13-year-old brother, who had returned to California in the summer with
promises to come back for Trucks (the dog) at Christmas. New Year’s
came, and that dog was still in his pen. He’d look at me, tail
wagging, asking with his eyes if I’d come pet him, come play. Asking
if I would love him. I continuously said “No. You are not
my dog. I don’t believe in dogs. You are not my
responsibility.”
Unfortunately, my
landlady/roommate had started staying at her boyfriend’s house, and would
I please feed him and let him in if it snowed? So, one day, as I was
repeating the above mantra to myself, I pulled out my cell and, shaking my
head, called my landlady. It didn’t take much negotiating before I
had myself a dog. My first dog. Ever. A year old
Labrador mix. Aside from his general sweet nature, he had two very
important qualities—already housebroken, and did not get on furniture.
However, I decided to train him further.
In case you have read
any books on the subject, or perhaps dallied in actual training yourself,
let me rid you now of the notion that this is an easy thing.
Positive reinforcement, use treats, blah, blah, blah. Right.
This all assumes that the dog has average puppy dog intelligence.
My dog is smarter
that I am. Oh, he can sit, stay, lay down. Sometimes he even
deigns to heel while we walk. However, Trucks has figured out the
deal—he does good, he gets a treat. You may have heard something
about the canine sense of smell. As soon as I get within a five foot
perimeter of this creature, he can tell if I’ve got the goods. And,
as you may have guessed—no treat, no trick. In fact, Trucks goes so
far as to sit for a moment, then lay down, before I even give a command,
if he smells his fake Oreos. But, if I don’t have them, forget it.
He just bows at me and proceeds to do his little doggy dance, wanting to
play and jump. People tell me he will outgrow this when he gets out
of the puppy phase... in two to three years. I can only sigh
and be grateful for my patience and his sweetness. Who could resist
that sweet face?
Camping and Fire
Now that you have
read this far, I’m sure you will be unsurprised at the following
experience. One Tuesday evening in February, I was invited over for
a Buffalo-rib supper—another one of those fish I never knew about—at a
couple of friends’ house. Around 10 or so, one of them—we’ll call
him Pablo—decided we should all go camping. Now, I don’t know about
you, but camping in the middle of winter in 20-degree weather was not
something I would have ever rationally considered doing. But, these
outdoorsy people were constantly surprising me with new ideas I’d never
considered. I was appreciating it more and more. So, I sat on
the couch while Pablo and “Eugene” gathered every sleeping bag between
them (four), a couple of comforters, a roll of toilet paper, three
pillows, and a flashlight. I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt so I
just assumed I would have plenty of warmth between those and the sleeping
accoutrements. Oh, was I wrong.
It took thirty
minutes and two dirt roads to get where we were going. Three people
in a two person truck. One girl. Yeah. Guess who didn’t
get a real seat. I got a lap and thirty minutes of my head at an
extremely unnatural angle. This camping location, courtesy of moi,
was on the bayou at an abandoned lodge, deck overlooking the water.
The deck was just under a bluff, with a fire-pit a foot away, so we
decided to set up there. Let me just emphasize that the deck was
over the water. With open air underneath. In February.
We pulled up, walked
up, and began the breaking and entering minus the breaking—abandoned, the
house hadn’t had a locked door in years. After a cursory exploration
that revealed several hidden cellars and escape hatches I’d never found
until Pablo got a hold of the place, I was saddened to hear of the termite
damage he could see. There went the purchasing plan. Anyway...
We first decided to
build a fire. And by we, I mean they. My only fire building
had been done in a fireplace, usually with four or five attempts before
anything remotely like flame appeared for more than two minutes.
I stood around until
Eugene realized I could be holding the flashlight for them. For you
see, these boys were not content with the sticks and small pieces of wood
they were finding. Oh, those were fine for getting it going, but
apparently what we really needed were those huge logs laying several feet
down the slope. I could only shake my head, assuming between the two
of them they would be unable to bring up even a small one. I was
wrong. Let’s leave it at that.
A nice fire was
quickly roaring, with a magnificent log draped across the pit. Two
feet across, it would burn all night. We laid the blankets and
sleeping bags close to the fire, and all climbed in. There was no
choice but sharing the sleeping bags or getting hypothermia; we chose to
keep our toes. Even with the fire and two layers of sleeping bags, I
could not feel my feet. The air from beneath was freezing me
out—ears, nose, everything but my core. Well and so, I just accepted
that a light doze would be my sleep for the night. We lay, looking
at the stars, talking, and for a moment in time, I thought I was in the
most beautiful place on God’s Earth. Until 20 minutes later when,
awakened from our repose by a crashing sound, we jumped three feet high
when we saw the flaming log rolling slowly toward us. Pablo, nearest
to it, caught it and adjusted its position to one of more stability.
Disaster averted. Later, Eugene brought our attention to the skunk
sniffing at the edge of the deck. We made a deal with it—we left it
alone, it left us alone.
7:00 a.m. came early,
but it brought with it heat and a beautiful sunrise. Since there
were classes to attend later, we forced ourselves to eventually get up and
return to civilization.
Concluding Thoughts and
a List
I’m not sure if it
was the bugs, my newly discovered arachnophobia, or the time I got lost in
a state park that did it, but I changed my major to writing. I love
new adventures, and I’d do any of the above again in a heartbeat, but that
does not mean my career should be comprised of such things. Luckily,
I’ve met some people who are also interested in a homesteading lifestyle,
and I am slowly being schooled in the tricks of the trade. Here are
some things I have learned so far:
1.
It’s ok to use bugspray. It
does not make you less of a man. It may prevent mental irritation.
2.
When learning to shoot,
actually learn to shoot the small stuff before you even attempt the big
boy toys. In fact, lift weights and practice balancing for several weeks
beforehand.
3.
A good dog is worth his
weight in gold (and body heat) even when going though the puppy thing.
4.
And, he’s smarter than you.
Accept it.
5.
You need a lighter. Even the
wild men on the mountain use a lighter to start fires now.
6.
When camping in winter, do
it on solid ground, not by water, and with two sleeping bags per person,
both good to at least 20 degrees.
7.
You need a knife. A
pocketknife if nothing else. Even in a crowd of outdoorsman, there will
eventually come a time when everyone will have forgotten theirs.
8.
If you borrow a knife, check
it for blood and fur. Don’t ask.
9.
Girls can do anything guys
can do. But, never underestimate their usefulness.
10.
Always carry a bottle of
water.
11.
Toilets can be overrated.
