"I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with the nonhuman world and somehow survives...Paradox and bedrock."-Edward Abbey

13 May 2014

Special Day

It was a special day; Sabina and I mark one of myriad anniversaries. I was going to throw together a little chicken paprikash for supper, just because. The next time the sun rises, we'll go on a road daytrip with a picnic. It's been a bit since we've done that, the picnic aspect, that is.

It was a special day; he'd not gone walking with me in a bit. Gone are the days when Whistler could bushwhack up a twelve-thousand foot peak with me, and then, the next day, when I could barely walk, he'd herd-chomp at my ankles, wanting to know what the day's new adventure was. These days, two years later, a mile is an effort. What a drag it is getting old.

It was just the Bull's Head in this late spring mush that got the Rockies to make national news-ya'll do know it can snow here at any time of year, riiiiiiiiiiiiight? Whistler made a brave show of it. This part of the valley, in most places, seems the steepest. Even at a quarter mile, he was showing signs of fatigue. I did my best to encourage him. He did his best to keep up with me on my long shanks.

There's a point, after the ruins of the Diamond Mine, I am scrambling along terraced levels to another set of ruins, before coming out at the far east end of town. A residual of his IVS, when he gets tired, his equilibrium gets screwy. Even at the drop-offs by the Diamond, I had him on a leash, as to help prevent him pitching off the edge of the tailings. We reached the intersection with the 730 and headed home. I didn't do my usual loop, but that was fine. The two of us got to walk together, and that's becoming increasingly rare.

"Thank you for the company, lo jen" I said to Whistler as he achingly followed me home. "It was, as always, lovely."     


  1. It's hard to keep up with the increased metabolism/less longivity of dogs, but it always looks like each 5 minutes is totally new, and an increased wonder.

    Sounds like fun with the daughter, wish mine were in distance to arrage a thing like that.

    It comes to everyone, the limited ability, the decreased range of things possible.


  2. Sabina's the other half, though, mentally, her and the kiddo could be contemporaries ;). We have been known to accuse one another of being adult children. With school out, my daughter'll be up next week for adventuring, and, hopefully, for more than a day or two.

    Whistler did great until thirteen. He still thinks he's got the ability at fifteen. Of course, now he can no longer climb, I have to lift him in and out of vehicles, and more than a mile, I'd have to carry him. The look in his eye, to antropomorphise, says he's not happy with this circumstance.

  3. Yesterday the heat was too much for my boy, Ozzy. I had to carry him home on the return mile from the mailbox. I hate this.

    On a happier note: have a great picnic... ;D

    1. On the other extreme, the cold really affects Chevy's arthritis. It's horrible to watch, and he growls at the prospect of help. Partially out of pain, but I also suspect a bit of pride...that one could climb a six foot fence to get to a bitch in heat when he was younger.

      Thank you. Possible rain/snow showers be damned! There is no bad weather, just the wrong clothing.

  4. Sad when we see our pets age. Sounds like Whistler is in need of a little more relaxation these days. Our pets really do become family to us, don't they?

    1. He does sleep more, certainly. I could say he's not only family, but a fetter; he's one of the last links to my mother.