Three days ago I thought we’d move further south to avoid the cold.
We didn’t. I obsessed with working on financial pages (above), and now the sky is cloudless, the wind is gone, and the sun warms our campsite and the Best Little Trailer very nicely here at Sawtooth Canyon Campground. Spike, Bridget, and I go for a long walk.
The past three days and nights have been very chilly.
The crew and I snuggle together to keep warm at night. The first two nights of the cold snap we all sleep well.
Last night is something else.
Spike repeatedly wakes up, rattles the blind as he sticks his nose through the slats. He looks out the window into the dark and barks. He looks at me, now that I’ve turned on the light, and barks. He jumps out of bed, hops around, and then lies at the door and barks.
I can take this for only so long.
I grab the flashlight and take him out. Bridget stays in bed, her sleepy eyes peering out from under the quilt. I walk with Spike around the BLT and our campsite. He stares (or perhaps I should say he points his nose because his vision is poor) in the direction of the desert land adjoining the campground and our campsite. The fur stands up on his back.
“Okay. Enough of this, Spike. I don’t like this. We’re going back inside.”
I still have the habit of talking out loud to Spike even though his hearing is as bad as his eyesight. I lift him up and carry him inside, put him back in bed, and cover him with the quilt the way he likes it. “Good night, little boy.” He settles down. All three of us go to sleep.
Spike barks again, and this time, Bridget joins in.
The three of us go outside. We look around. The crew does not like something nearby. It must be coyotes. Can’t do anything about that. “Back in you go, guys.”
The crew’s wide awake so I give them a snack.
With their bellies working on turkey slices from the deli, they nod off.
This morning I let Bridget and Spike outside to do their business. As I put on my shoes, they commence to make a big ruckus. I look out the window and see what all the fuss was about last night.
I’ll let the crew tell you about it.
Canine Corner: “Night stalkers” by Spike and Bridget
“Spike! I chased them off, too! I did just as much as you to run them off. Just because I’m a girl, doesn’t mean I’m a scaredy-cat.”
“Okay, okay. Keep your harness on, woman.”
“And another thing, Spike. They weren’t ‘wild dogs.’ You shouldn’t use inflammatory terms like that. You know our conversation is going on the blog, and those kind of words upsets our readers. RVSue told us not to make any trouble when we write in our corner.”
“Well, what would you call them, Bridge? Puppy dogs? You know, they weren’t exactly Lassie, Benji, Snoopy, and Old Yeller out for a nighttime stroll.”
“Feral. Feral dogs, Spike. That means they live on the wild side.”