What an exciting morning!
I wake up and see an orange glow on the wall of the BLT, right under the television. I look out the window and realize the source — an incredibly beautiful sunrise! I grab my camera and jump out the door. Once again I’m running around in my nightie snapping photos. It’s still quite chilly out, but I don’t care! (I’ll post a sunrise slideshow soon.)
Right now I want to tell you the latest developments with Buddy, the homeless pit bull!
I go back inside to look at the sunrise photos. Wow! These are fantastic! I happily imagine the beautiful slideshow these photos will make, when I glance out the window. I am stunned by what I see!
Buddy is back and he’s brought a friend!
Again I grab my camera, fumble around putting the memory card back in, and hurry out the door. Buddy’s pal is a scruffy little blonde terrier. Both dogs run off. I try to call them back, but they duck down over the embankment into the deep wash below. Apparently Scruffy is very afraid of people.
He’s running for all he’s worth.
What I witness next has me exclaiming “Oh My Gosh!” in amazement.
Take a close look at this photo. See the steep rock behind the ridge where Scruffy stands? He scales that rock like a chameleon . . . and fast!
In a second he’s over the top of it and gone!
Buddy, of course, comes back for breakfast.
Bridget and Spike crawl out from under their comfy covers and realize Buddy’s back. I shut the screen door on them, go out with a large dish, retrieve the kibble bag from the PTV, and load up the plate. Buddy dives in.
While he’s inhaling breakfast, I set up a water dish nearby.
I look for Scruffy. No sign of him.
I imagine a colony of homeless canines living somewhere in the desert nearby. I wonder how they survive. Hmm . . . The university students left a large bag of trash on top of the full garbage can before they left last Sunday. The next morning it was ripped open, trash strewn about. Is that how these dogs survive? Waiting for trash and depending upon the kindness of strangers?
As I write this, Buddy sits by our door.
When he jumps up on me, arms around my waist in a hug of gratitude, it’s hard for me to enjoy the moment. He pulls so hard on my heartstrings, one could make a macrame wall hanging out of them.
A heart-wrenching drama replays across my mind. The crew and I are pulling out of the campground. I’m sobbing into the steering wheel having looked into the side mirror. Behind the BLT in a cloud of dust is Buddy, running his heart out, along with Scruffy and Hobo and Dusty and Bella and Jake and Lil’ Bo and . . . . Aarghh!
What am I going to do?
If I contact any government authority, I’m convinced Buddy, being a pit bull, will be dead before the month’s out. I even hesitate to talk with Ranger Jim about the situation. He’s got a job to do and Buddy can’t be hanging around the campground.
Searching for a previous owner is not necessarily an avenue to a happy ending either. Pit bulls are frequently abused.
I can’t put him in the PTV with the crew and transport him anywhere. And where would I take him?
Every meal I feed Buddy, every time I refill his water bowl, every time I let him hug me, the dilemma deepens. Over and over, all day long, I ask myself . . . .
What am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do?