05-11-11 - It’s a dog’s life

05-11-11
It’s a dog’s life
He doesn't care for his hair or his teeth
And if the truth were known he's a bit of a thief,
Innocently lies, and it's showing.
0 miles
The morning starts sunny and bright. I repack the car from the trunk to the front seat. I’ve filled my “Solar Shower to see what I can get out of it, either to wash my hair or to wash out dishes. I also fill a jug that has a tap and was going for solar tea, but decide to use packets of Peach Tea in the water instead as the sun seems to come an go with frequent clouds passing overhead.
Mischa starts barking loudly. I look over and see a beautiful tan and black dog coming near. He seems quite polite and docile and is revealed to be very friendly and affectionate in moments. No collar and no idea where he came from. From the look of his ribs, he’s been on his own for a little while. He doesn’t threaten Miasha (unless you are looking thru Mischa’s eyes) and is soon part of our camp. I have dog food that Mischa won’t go near but is good quality food, so I give a bag full to the dog. I call “Pignose” because he has pink markings in the middle of his black nose and because he’s “A little Amp”-ed. He is a good dog and comes and goes throughout the day. I keep asking people who drive be if he’s there’s. No one claims him.
I write on the bench or in the tent or outside the tent in my port-a-chair. Around 5 pm the clouds and wind start to get ominous. I take Mischa and myself inside the tent but keep the flap open. “Pignose” stays in various positions around the tent and from time to time barks at some unseen (to me) intruder. Just before the storm starts around 7 pm I bring “Pignose” in the tent to give it shelter. I know the dog is imprinting on me, but what else can I do. From 7 to 10 pm the storm rages and thunder and lightning are constant and vociferous. I listen to more of Fool Moon and can sometimes not hear if due to the thunder, rain or wind respectively. There is what turns out to be a lull rather than a halt in the storm and I let “Pignose” out. He roams away and then comes back and rests like a Indian dog in front of a teepee centuries ago on these same Kansas plains. I have a feeling of being an Indian brave looking out his teepee in the night back in those days. Suddenly what I’m doing doesn’t seem so un-natural, so foreign. It seems like “this is the way many people lived full lives for centuries. But I have the advantages of technology and commerce to make this sort of life easier. I think of the Moody Blues album cover “To Our Children’s Children’s Children” and think of what fascinated me about it was the idea of living in a cave with all the advantages of modern (even future) technologies available. What a combination for a lifestyle. “High Tech, High Touch” indeed!
“Pignose” has been “guarding” the campsite Barking and growling at some unseen prowler. He’s a good guard dog. And has a heart of gold.
The storm starts again and I encourage “Pignose to come back in the tent. He does and finds a spot to the left side of me (Mischa is on my right0 and settles down on the tent floor.
He puts his head on my arm and gives a sigh. Then he is snoring away into restful sleep. That a little warmth and shelter can give such piece of mind, makes me think of this dog as a metaphor for all the homeless strays out in this country (like myself) who don’t know what their fate is day to day, not even the illusion of a solid home life to lull them to sleep at night. Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep well. Those illusions are gone. I feel a responsibility for this dog. I can’t just leave him in this park. But I don’t think I can take him with us. My “budget” is virtually non-existant and I can’t even provide vet care for my own Mischa, much less “Pignose”. But I must provide a better life for this dog. I will try to find a no kill shelter for him tomorrow, If I can, or an SPCA or rescue group or a willing home.
Dostoyevsky wrote “What then Must we Do”. This is one of those things “I” must do, or fail to call my self a human, ever again.