Other People's Dogs

Here's a dog with a job! He's part of the show at Gulf World in Panama City Beach, Florida, and gets pulled around the performance pool by a dolphin. If you look at this photo long enough you'll start hearing the Beach Boys.

Meet Buddy. We ran across him when John and I went into a convenience store on our way to the beach in 2004. Buddy was pretty old even then and required assistance to get up but once on his feet he was very confident in his ability to stay up. We were informed that Buddy liked to dress up as the sheriff at Halloween and that's all I'm going to say about that.

This is Augie in a charming photo I pinched from her mom's myspace page. Augie is the fur child of Southern singer/siren Kelly Hogan and they both have enormous eyes and are awfully photogenic. I can remember Augie as a puppy, sleeping in Kelly's guitar case when she would gig. I love Kelly and I love Augie.

Florida again. The panhandle on a cold February day in 2007.

Look at Emma and Ike! They call me "Auntie Momma". They are as cute from the front as they are from this angle. These are sibling dogs. They were once puppies in need and my friend Sherri adopted them. Ike, the yellow one, is a thinker. Emma is a doer. Usually, she does things she ought not. Just ask Sherri.

Moonlight Mile

I found that there are some things I got to do while RVing that I wasn't able to do when I lived in a regular neighborhood in a regular house living a regularly scheduled life. After my mother died I found it most soothing to ride my bike late at night (midnight even) around the perimeter of the RV park in Hoover, Alabama. It was a smooth ride, paved and mostly well lighted. It was peaceful, with zero traffic. In the summer the heat usually broke after dark so a cool breeze would envelope me as I made my laps on a purple mountain bike that used to belong to my niece Emily. There's not a regular street too close by so there was no other traffic to even think about. Even the other residents weren't stirring that late. The RVs scattered throughout the 2.5 acre park were quiet, with no lights on. Sometimes the dogs would come with me, leashes left behind. Who was to mind? You can do a lot of musing on a bike when you don't have to be conscious of traffic or other people. I would look at the stars, the night clouds and the occasional bat that would be attracted to the insects around a parking lot light. Often John would join me in my cyclic wandering. Sometimes we would hear deer moving through the woods on the edge of the park. The dogs would be intrigued and stare into the darkness, ears on high alert. The few times we did see deer my dog Tumbleweed thought it a good idea to chase them up to the tree line, which overjoyed him but exasperated me. He's 14 years old and in great shape, save the fact that he's missing most of his teeth.

"With what exactly were you going to take those deer down?" I asked him one evening, "You have 8 teeth." He wagged his tail happily.

Grendel, our food-obsessed spaniel hound mix, loved these late outings for the simple reason that it gave her the opportunity to see if anyone had left a crumb of food around the park after a cookout, picnic or pet feeding. Her nose drove her to and fro as we would make our way around the perimeter or up and down the mostly empty parking aisles. The night she found a leftover chicken wing was both the happiest and saddest night of her life. She found it, she was in love with it, she wasn't allowed to keep it.

Boomerang, the stray dog we found and adopted while hiking in Rising Fawn, Georgia, would keep to the edges of the park and her steady pace only changed if she saw what she surely considered her main nemesis in life : rabbit. Boomerang loves to chase rabbits. She turns into a blur when the rabbit chase is on. She's very fast, but even so, doesn't seem to want to catch them and eat them, just chase them. And they gave her ample opportunity for that.

So, as it turned out, everyone in our little RV family got something from our midnight rides: John and I could muse on life or smaller questions, Tumbleweed might get a chance to feel like a wolf with a mouth full of teeth , Boomerang could possibly find a rabbit she hadn't raced yet and Grendel could dream of finding treasure in the form of yesterdays fritos.

Dog Days

The RV Dogs, Halloween 2007

Our dogs have adjusted completely to living in our movable space. The couch has been covered in decorative plastic, been taken over by Grendel and Boomerang and as such, re-named "The Girl's Dorm". They sleep there during the long, lazy summer days and sit there in the evening and watch me cook, gazing intently, in case some crumb slips from my grasp and falls to the floor. On those occasions Grendel leaps into action and sucks it up almost before it settles. I haven't had to clean up a spill in a long, long time. She's a sleek and round piglet masquerading as a Beagle/Chihuahua/Cocker Spaniel mix, always hungry and always searching for the next morsel.

Since we have no slides in our rig and our space is basically like a rolling hotel room, it's good to have two of three dogs out of the way and we've happily given them the couch. Tumbleweed,our hearty and dignified 15 year old, plops down mainly on the floor, wherever he wishes, and we step around him. On occasion he deigns to step around us. When we aren't looking he goes back to the bedroom and gets on the bed. This wholly perplexes John. "Some things are just for humans!" he explains to Tumbleweed who looks up at him and yawns, showing the oh-so-fine 9 teeth he has left.

The dogs are all well-trained. I'm a stickler for that, and it keeps order for John and I to be the pack leaders and they, the furry followers, but that doesn't mean it's always a peaceable kingdom. One time while playing with Grendel, John was throwing her fave toy (nicknamed Fat Phoenix, because, while I'm not sure exactly what the toy is, that's certainly what it looks like) up and down the "hallway" - basically the length of the RV - and she got over-excited and slammed into her brother's head. Tumbleweed was having none of it and bit her on the eye with one of his remaining teeth. This took a few days of my long ago vet-tech training to make right and in the meantime, Grendel was scouting for morsels with her good eye.

John washes them often to keep our space smelling sweet and he wrestles the dog hair down to an acceptable level with the high tech, space-age looking Dyson hand vac we gave him for Father's Day this year.

In case I haven't mentioned - or even if I have - Tumbleweed, Grendel and Boomerang are all rescued dogs, saved from one dire situation or another. At present there aren't enough good homes for all the domestic animals out there that need one, so be aware that if you can safely and happily share your home with an animal, your life will improve in ways you never thought possible. If you can't or won't have a pet, you can still help make the world a better place by helping animals. Know that one of the most important ways you can use your voice is to speak for those who have none. What greater power is there than the power of kindness?

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated." -- Ghandi

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