July 2014
So it’s the end of a very long, hot, physical day… mixing and pouring concrete. I close up the hangar, grab a cold beer out of the fridge and head for the back porch. The bag of chips in my hand makes me the Pied Piper, dogs following closely behind. I plop down in a chair, munching chips chased down with a cold bottle of Mexico’s finest. Dogs sit obediently at my side, munching the chips I feed them. Eventually, we empty the bag. I signal Bailey… all gone… and he turns and plops down on one side of the coffee table. Somehow, Sam takes her cue from him, and lays down on the other side of the table.
It’s a beautiful evening, the sun is going down and cool breeze is rustling the leaves on the trees. The dogs are alert, watching for signs of trouble. I lightly rub Bailey with my bare foot; he lifts his head another half-inch, sniffing, listening, watching. Sam tries to do the same, but it’s been a long day for her. She spent the day at the vet, got knocked out for another round of teeth cleaning, and one more rotten tooth got pulled. I think she feels better, but her head is losing the battle with gravity. She needs to sleep it off. She rests her head on the rough concrete and her eyes slowly close.
Now it’s just me and Bailey. The sun is down behind the mountains; the sky is getting dark and the stars come out. We listen to the sounds of the neighborhood shutting down… a dirt bike in the distance heading for home, lawn sprinklers, garage doors shutting. It would be a perfect night for sleeping outside…
My beer is gone, so I announce “O-K” and stand up. Both dogs jump to their feet (paws?) and head for the back door. It’s dinner time! But first Sam gets an antibiotic pill stuffed in a piece of string cheese. She spits out the pill and eats the cheese, then looks at me for more. Hmmm… ok, this isn’t going to work. Let’s try something else… Wrap the pill in a slice of turkey. It vanishes in one gulp. Oh yeah, that works. Then the second pill, delivered the same way. Another gulp. Of course I give Bailey some turkey, so he doesn’t feel left out. Then it’s kibble with SOOP! (canned chicken broth) over the top. I give Sam 3 scoops; she devours it and goes looking for more in Bailey’s bowl. Always a futile effort… They head back outside for one last pee before bed.
So I’m sitting at my computer writing this; faithful dog is dead at my feet, paws twitching, dreaming of poodles. Sam is around the corner of the desk, doing her best imitation of a furry rug. I finish my dinner, some sort of frozen pasta and chicken dish. It’s ok, would be better with a salad and garlic bread. Hmmm… might be time for ice cream.
And that’s the news from Flying Dog Ranch….