Walt's Corner

At first we didn’t have any camping plans for Memorial Day weekend. I had some doctor’s appointments on that Friday in preparation for the upcoming colonoscopy. But then at the last minute we decided what the hell – why not! Wednesday I picked up the Runabout, parked it out front, and turned on the fridge.

Friday arrived. Filled up the fresh water tank (45 gallons in the tank, 6 in the hot water heater), finished packing the last-minute groceries. I was getting ready to head out to my VA appointments when I noticed it. The fresh water tank. Kinda hanging on the driver side back. WTF. Had it always come down at an angle from front to back adn I just hadn’t noticed. I checked the other side. Nope. It is defintily horizontal and level with the trailer frame. Further inspection revealed the cause. A busted bracket. That last camping trip we made to Three Rivers Campground was a rough 6 or 7 miles of dirt and hole filled road. Seemed to recall a couple hard unexpected hits. Initial thoughts as I left for my VA appointments were to cancel this trip. But then I wondered if there were a way to temporarily support the tank for this trip. Turns out there was. Some handy cargo straps and a piece of plywood did the trick. Secure. Stopped a couple times on the way to our usual playground in the Lincoln National Forest to verify the integrity of the straps and we were golden. 

Found a nice secluded spot about 4 miles down Forest Road 223. All Our usuals were taken this late on a Friday evening of a 4-day weekend, so this was the furthest out on this road that we have camped. Not by far, though. About another 50 yards. We were next to a few trails. Hiked Benson Ridge Canyon (4-mile loop) on Saturday and Lucas Canyon (6-mile out and back) on Sunday.

There is currently a fire ban in the whole forest, meaning no charcoal grills or log fires. Only propane. No problem. We brought the propane grill and propane campfire. Meals were my home-made brats on Saturday and k-bobs on Sunday. The weather was wonderful. Low was 49 and high at 66.

The hardest part was spreading the ashes of Abby in one of her favorite meadows in the forest. There, she joins her sister, Dolly. Over the past few years whenever we walk through that meadow, and we do a lot, we say hi to Dolly and remember a story or two about her. Now we’ll add Abby to the conversation.  One we like to remember is how she loved the water. Whether it be the serene clear lake, white water rapids of a fast moving river, or a dirty ass mud-puddle. We had to make her avoid them when we didn’t want her wet or dirty. This meadow she’s now a part of has this huge mud hole at the beginning of it that we would have to leash her around to make our way to the meadow. And then again on our way back to our camping site. Otherwise she would be in it and one filthy dog. One day when there was this particularly huge mud puddle (because sometimes it was dry), she managed to sneak from us and took off at full speed towards it. I had to run full bore to be able to cut her off and prevent her from jumping into it. Good times. But also foreboding. Knowing that one day, Bailey and Lotty will also join this exclusive club. In the below picture from last year, Abby is the far left pup. The meadow is barely visable in the path that leads up between the trees on the left. 

Now to focus on that water tank bracket. I think I can weld a new end on to it and secure it back to the trailer frame. A handy man’s work is never done. But he’s always saving money.

A lady falls into an open manhole after exiting her vehicle. Falls 10 feet and dies. But not from the fall. Medical examiner “determined she died as a result of scald burns with inhalational thermal injury, along with blunt force injury to her chest.”

Scald burns with inhalational thermal injury. What. The Fuck. Why is it so hot down there? Putting on my best Karen outfit, I researched. Because – I wanted to know. Just in case I’m not cognizant of my surroundings when stepping out of my vehicle while parked on a city street, where does this scalding danger come from? What do I need to be aware of?

I learned these are utility tunnels that house steam pipes and other utility components. These temperatures can easily exceed 180 degrees F. Crazy, right?

Coming off the heels of the passing of our own Abby, Chuck’s eulogy of his baby, Lao, hits hard.

Chuck opines that the true cost of pet ownership includes the inevitable loss. Beautiful words if you’ve got the time.

Also, fuck cancer.

17 years ago, the sweetest Cockapoo was bornt. We wouldn’t know about her until 2012, when we were looking for a small dog to be a sister to our OG (Original Girl), Dolly. El Paso had this store called The Saddle Blanket, though it has been long gone since then. The Humane Society or Animal Rescue League would hold adoption fairs at The Saddle Blanket from time to time. This would be the first time we met Abby. We wanted to adopt her but then at the last minute they said no, we couldn’t. They just realized she had already been adopted out.

A few weeks later as we were at the shelter, still looking, there she was again. Abby had been returned. The reason? Did not play well with children. Knowing Abby now the way we do, we know that was a damned lie! Abby was a sweetheart to everyone. Kids. Adults. It didn’t matter.

Even though we adopted Abby for Dolly, Dolly would never play with her. Not for lack of trying. Abby tried and tried to get Dolly to play-fight with her; chase her around. Dolly would have none of it. It wouldn’t be until Bailey entered the picture that Dolly entered the fight. And what amazing fights they were! Glorious battles fought out at Casa Basil Cigar and Whiskey Lounge. Almost every night there would be wrestle-mania-worthy fight for about 25 minutes.

Abby and Dolly would fight over moths. Not play fighting either. They both wanted the moth. On warm summer nights I’d bat a moth out of the air and it would go flying down to the ground. They’d both pounce it. Same with crickets. They loved trying to catch crickets.

Abby was also a hugger. You couldn’t hold her like a normal dog. She would force her way to where her belly was against your chest and she would wrap her paws around your neck – both sides – and hug you. Every time she would encounter a new vet or groomer, they would all say the same thing, “Oh my! She’s a hugger!”

Abby’s fur was as velvety-smooth as the Velveteen Rabbit. Abby’s heart was made of gold. She would see the turtle struggling with trying to crawl over the landscaping bricks to get into the shrubbery bed, and she would run over to nudge the turtle right over into the bed.

Over the last year her endurance rapidly diminished. The duration and lengths of her walks declined. She’s the only dog that has hiked Dog Canyon Trail with us. Her hips were sore afterwards. She went legally blind, lost most of her hearing, and arthritis claimed her joints. The last few days she really went downhill. Wouldn’t (couldn’t?) eat. I even tried to give her some ribeye last night. No dice. She smelled it and turned her head. She was about to starve to death. It was time to make that decision.

Eating. That was probably the biggest difference between when Dolly went versus Abby. Dolly ate up to the last minute! We even got her a cheeseburger and nuggets on the way to the vet. I even brought along a piece of chocolate. That forbidden fruit for dogs. Hey, she’s gonna be dead by night’s end. Let her enjoy some fuckin’ chocolate. But once that ball started rolling, I forgot all about the chocolate. So I ate it myself afterwards. Not Abby. She hadn’t eaten in 3 days and still wouldn’t eat steak.

Abby’s final camping trip with us was to Three Rivers Campground in the Lincoln National Forest. She seemed to have so much energy there. She even walked through the river. She loved water – rivers and lakes. Loved swimming. In her blindness, when we would pick her up and just hold her over the floor, she’d do the doggy paddle. Just in case we were going to throw her in a lake, I guess.

You were the sweetest girl, Abby. You brought many smiles to us and complete strangers. We’ll miss you.

Note: Though this post appears to be a new one, it is not. With the passing of Abby, our 17-year-old Cockapoo, I’m putting together her eulogy and discovered that somehow Dolly’s had disappeared. Luckily, I kept a text version of it and I’m re-posting it here but I have no way of putting it where it belongs chronologically. This would have been originally posted January 19, 2024. I still miss her like crazy.

It was with a sad and broken heart that we decided to put our Dolly-girl down. A long-haired Chihuahua and rescue dog.

This morning was the first of forever where I won’t look up from the dining room island and be startled to see see 2 beady black eyes staring at me, as if saying, “Yo. Bitch. Where’s my dental dental treat?” Because that started every morning. We are creatures of habit, dogs included. Recently, in her old age, she would forget that she already got up and had one. Then she would act like we were withholding treats from her. Stare at us and low-growl.

We got her when she was 4 years old. She started life as a stray, ended up in an animal shelter, then transferred to a foster home, and that is how she ended up in our family. We had just bought our house and were looking for a small dog. The foster family volunteered their time to assist in adopting out dogs from places like PetSmart – which is where I found her. She must have been with that family for a little while, because the kids were sad to see her adopted. One was crying. The Mother tearfully gave her a last hug and called her “Monkey.” That was what they called her. I made it a point to call her that every so often. Just to keep the name familiar to her, and possibly (hopefully) remind her of the interim family she had.

The lady warned us. She’ll try to escape. She’s a regular Houdini. Cages can’t keep her in. She’ll get through/over/under your wall gates. Sure enough. She did all the above. She was the master at escaping crates. She could bend them and wiggle her way out. She could leap over gates. I ended up having to zip tie all the sides of a crate together to keep her from escaping. She tried to run out the front door every opportunity she had.

Once, she ran down the road with a pair of my underwear wrapped around her head. Eventually the crate was no longer needed and her escape attempts became passive.
She enjoyed our “leftover” taco we saved for her every Friday night we ate at Gil’s. She could drool upon command when I would tell her, “Today’s Friday, gurrrrrl! You know what that means! We’re gonna go to Gil’s tonight and bring you back a taco!” To this day I still refer to it as Gil’s because, well, the girls just wouldn’t understand the name change. As Dolly gained her sisters over the years, that taco had to be split 3 ways.

She especially enjoyed camping and hiking up in the Lincoln National Forest, near Cloudcroft, NM. The cool temperatures, green grass, and trees would rejuvenate her old soul and she would run and gallop through the grassy meadows as if she were 10 years younger. But then she would sleep for hours.

We almost lost her a few years ago but pulling a bunch of teeth saved her life that time. Weird how dental hygiene affects overall health. We got 4 more years out of her than I expected to.
By this year, she had gone mostly deaf. Cataracts had taken all but blurs and shadows from her vision. Just this week she was no longer able to get around on her own power. Up until the end, she suffered no pain that was apparent to us. As she became less mobile and the more we had to pick her up for placement, the more it was becoming painful for her.

It is said that our Best Friends lives are but a part of ours, but we are their whole life. Our OG, Original Girl, will be sorely missed but never forgotten. She left this world with her little head in my hand, which became just a little heavier as she went.

Who’s a good girl?