Those
of you who keep track of this blog know that I am a man of traditional values
deeply committed to my family and to the preservation of nature. I live in a cabin in the South Texas
Brushlands and the nearest settlement is about four miles away. I go for weeks here in the woods and seldom journey
into town. I don’t get lonely for town
life or for anything relating to the city; and the only loneliness is for my
boys who are now grown and living far away.
There is not an hour in any day that I do not think of them. Of course, I consider my dogs part of my
family too and if you keep abreast of this rag you know how much I care for my
Blue Heelers. But this year has been
particularly hard for me. Last April I
lost Chucha who was bitten by a rattlesnake and did not survive. About a month afterwards Chula, who was 15
years old at the time, died of natural causes.
She had been deaf since birth (a common genetic quirk with Blue Heelers)
and veterinarians were always amazed she’d lived so long. But she was loved and looked after and though
she never heard our voices she was always attuned to our every need. Chula watched after my youngest son when he
was little. She would herd (heel) him
and keep him from venturing out too far.
Chula’s
brother, Dingo, was the king. He was the
greatest Blue Heeler I have ever known. He
turned 16 years old this past summer. He
was blind and deaf now from old age. His
teeth were nearly all gone. But in his
youth he was fierce and no one messed with us under any circumstance.
Even
in his old age he always went walking with me keeping close by following my
scent; and even though he’d developed arthritis and sometimes had a limp he
kept going. Dingo never complained. He was given medicine to help his joints and he
was fed special food to ease his chewing and he was always eager to go out
woods roaming. If the wind changed or if
I happened to amble off the path then Dingo would sometimes get lost and I had
to walk back and find him and make sure he stayed close. I had thought about getting him a leash and I’m
sure he wouldn’t have minded but somehow I just couldn’t do that to him. He was too regal and noble to be walked with
any sort of cord around his neck.
Besides, we live in the woods and only city dogs get paraded around that
way. Dingo was free to take the path as
he wanted.
Lately,
Dingo’s eyesight was getting really bad.
I think he was nearly completely blind suffering from cataracts and
perhaps he could only make out vague shapes or colors. When I’d call him he wasn’t sure where I was
and I’d have to walk around to let him know where I was standing. Besides his poor eye sight, his hearing was
nearly nonexistent and yet amazingly he could hear certain types of sounds. The United States Navy has an airbase about
190 miles northeast of here and they sometimes train in dogfighting overhead. They figure that since no one lives out here
but an old grizzled hermit named Longoria then it doesn’t matter if they chase
each other at 20,000 feet. I don’t even
pay them much attention since it kind of sounds like thunder high
overhead. And besides, they only
dogfight about twice a week and I figure I can put up with those rumbling jet
engines for a few minutes as part of my contribution towards national defense. But the dogfights drove Dingo crazy. He’d start yelping and crying and moaning as
if he were about to get attacked. Maybe
he thought it was some sort of wolf howling in the distance. I don’t know but when the jet fighters chased
each other overhead then Dingo would start pleading for mercy. It never failed. Bring the jets and Dingo starts to wail.
There’s
a tiny little road about fifty yards beyond a thicket in front of my
cabin. It’s the two ruts that I take to
get to the first locked gate on the way out to the world beyond. Dingo liked to sit at the end of my driveway at
the edge of the little road keeping guard.
Granted he couldn’t see or hear anymore but nonetheless he would station
himself out there just in case….well, just in case of what I’m not sure but
anyway, just in case. I think in every
dog is a yearning to chase cars and Dingo spent his time out there waiting for
the car that never drove past since nothing comes by except an occasional
wandering coyote, a trail of leafcutter ants, free-ranging dung beetles or manic
roadrunners. But Dingo was a positive
thinker and he was out there just in case.
I
didn’t take Dingo walking yesterday because I was too tired. I was up before daybreak and at sundown I was
still working and after a shower and supper I drifted off. At sunrise I got up and made coffee and my
usual oatmeal and blueberries with my homemade date/cranberry bread with peanut
butter. Gave the doggies their treats
and noticed Dingo out at the edge of the driveway asleep. Sent Maggie out there to wake him up. It was a nippy morning and Dingo was awake in
an instant and trotted back for his cookie.
That’s my last impression of my beloved Dingo. You see he did finally get his chance to
chase a vehicle. But he was blind and it
ended badly.
I
buried Dingo at the edge of the driveway looking out on the two rut road that
leads to the first gate. I think Dingo
will like that. Just as I was packing
down the dirt around the grave a couple of US Navy fighter jets flew overhead
at about 10,000 feet. I could’ve sworn
one of the jets dipped its wing and damnit but I think I actually saw the pilot
bring his hand up and offer a salute.
Yep, I’m pretty sure of it. Dingo
couldn’t cry back like before but I’m doing a little bit of that now for him…if
you don’t mind.
