One thing Dusty T. Dog cannot do is stifle his urge to bark. And, yesterday, when I took off to spend some time with people, and he had the whole enormous yard (that was the yard of the world) to himself and his friends, he had the time of his life, a joyous barking dog fest that included clearing the top of a fence inside my friends’ yard.
Yep, Dusty, who can jump 6 feet straight up in the air (where else would you jump?) cleared a 4 foot fence. His accomplice, Shoey T. Dog, may have assisted in this romp in forbidden territory by figuring out (in her inimitable probably border collie way) how to open the little gate.
When I got home from my adventure (which included sliding down a small slope on my ass — on purpose) and was compared (by my younger and more able friends) to the film Narayama, I found all the dogs where they weren’t supposed to be.
Much reparation ensued. By nightfall, Dusty, who is 11 and mostly blind in one eye, was tuckered out. His poor hips were stiff and getting up from the floor was hard for him.
I related to Dusty. It was hard for me to get up a relatively gentle rocky slope to my tree. I needed a lot of help. And under normal circumstances, I’d walk down it, no problem. It isn’t a long hike — maybe 1/4 mile — and it isn’t a hard hike.
But — like the dogs — my friends an I all had a really good time, in spite of hauling grandma up the mountain, and the view from “my tree” is wonderful.
Feature photo: Lupita Tiscareño Norcross; photo of me, Kelly Jamar-Storme