FRIENDS AND SHIT EATING DOGS

There was a time early in the days of traveling to Baja that I would venture down with my friend Bill Minard and usually some other friends also.  We would do short 2 or 3 day trips.  Most of us had jibs to get back to, so the short journeys were fine.

This one trip Bill and I were traveling together in my 63’ Rambler Station Wagon  with an automatic transmission that was slipping under pressure in drive so whenever we came to a hill I would have to shit into low to make it up any hill.  We never had any problem with it.  At the time my left arm was in a cast so I drove one armed.  I couldn’t surf so Bill was the designated surfer and I would use his camera to take surf shots.  We had 2 couples tag along with us.  Our first spot we were looking for was a left and we had heard it was supposed to be pretty good.  Bill is a goofy footer so he wanted to see if this place could be found.  We were down about 180 miles and we found what might be the place.  Bill and the other 2 guys went out.  I was able to get a few good shots of Bill and one ha actually used in an ad he ran in the surf mags for his surfboards that he shaped.  Later that day we moved down the coast  a few miles and made camp at a place that we were familiar with. 

When it was time for a nature call it seemed as though these two dogs would come out from
nowhere and as soon as the nature call was over with,  the two dogs were on it like a fast food take out.  It was pretty hideous to see these two starving dogs enjoy our last meals with such welcoming appetites. 

At night by the campfire we were all sitting around and one of the guys got so shit faced he fell into the fire and his girlfriend started screaming to do something which we were already moving to get him out and nothing happened to him anyway, he wasn’t in the fire but a few seconds.  His girlfriend put him in the van and then came back out to sit by the fire.  Well a few minutes later those two shit eating dogs came around while we were passing around some snacks.  The next thing we knew the dogs were in the girls lap, kissing and licking her on the face and we just couldn’t believe it.  She was making the cute kissy kissy dog sounds and giggling!  Apparently she hadn’t made a nature call yet otherwise she wouldn’t have let those dogs kiss and lick her face.  We didn’t tell her where the dogs had their last meal.  We just humored ourselves and watched.  We knew where those tongues had been.   YUK!!  It was pretty though.  Bill and I still crack up when we talk about it.

THERE IS SOMEONE HERE WAITING FOR YOU

There was one time when I was at a gas station filling up on gas, cleaning my windows, checking the oil, water and the air in my tires, a full pit stop for my truck. Rocky is usually pretty patient but I guess this time maybe he must have seen something or smelled something, whatever it was he jumped out of the truck without me knowing it.  After I paid my bill and got back in my truck and took off I didn’t check for rocky because he never jumped out before this time.  I left the station and about 15 minutes later I realized Rocky wasn’t in the back of the truck, my heart sank just then.  Had he jumped out while I was driving?  Then I said to myself he must have jumped out at the gas station, I hope!  When I pulled into the station the attendant yelled out, “there is someone waiting for you!” and pointed to the pump I had used and there was Rocky sitting patiently waiting for me to return.  He spotted me and started wagging his tail as I pulled along side he jumped in.  I got out and gave him a pat on the head and told him I was sorry, it wouldn’t happen again and we were off on the road once again.

ROCKY IN BONE HEAVEN

For years and years once a month, myself, Rocky and a few good friends would frequent a steak house that was one of our favorite places to eat.  It was an ole barn style building.  Driving up we could see the smoke rising as they cooked the steaks on a barbeque pit style kitchen with mesquite wood.  Then as you get close, the smell of mesquite cooked steaks was everywhere in the air.  It was country style dining on benches with the menu written on a paper bag.  At that time there was the cowgirl steak, the cowboy steak, ranch style beans and a salad or better known on the menu as, buttons and boughs.  That was it.  And on every inch of the walls and ceilings were ties hanging from the people who wore the tires.  The waitresses would cut them off if you wore one in the place.  Each waitress had a country name, (not really theirs), and each eating area had its own name like Coyote Flats, Gold Nugget or Bighorn Gulch.  The names of the tables and the order that was ready was announced on a speaker so it sounded just like someplace back in time around the gold rush days. The paper bags that the menu was on had a plastic bag in it for leftovers or bones and I always asked the waitress if she had any more bones for my dog and they would always bring me a small box of bones, so Rocky was loving it when we came here.

I would always leave Rocky out front where there was a small grassy area and some old western antiques and he would lay there until I came out.  He would always be anxiously waiting for some bones.  Rocky was by now fully filled out to about 110 pounds with a beautiful fur coat.  He was such a handsome looking dog that I had been asked by a few people if I would be interested in studding him out for pups  I would say that I am sure he would like that but he is shooting blanks.  So he was such a good looking dog that someone would love to take him home with them but not even a bag of good country style steak bones could break his loyalty to me so I never had to worry.  This one particular night when we were done and coming out the door of the steak house I had to laugh when I saw Rocky lying in the middle of a large stack of steak bones just as happy as any dog could be.  Seemed as though quite a few people had a soft spot for Rocky as they passed by and pitched him a bone or 2.  He was definitely in bone heaven.

THOSE BIG BROWN EYES OF ROCKY

When I found Rocky he was about a year and 3 months old.  I was walking down the long line of chain link cages that held many a hopeful set of eyes and sad and wishful looks for a new and happy home.  Then I came to the face that left me without a doubt that this pup would be my new friend in my life.  He was already naked Rocky so I left his name the same, it fit him well.  He was sitting by the gate with his big sad brown eyes as he watched me approach the gate.  I stood and looked at him and he looked back at me.  He was a beautiful black Labrador with slightly longer hair on his tail.  The look on his face I couldn’t resist.  I had been looking for a Lab and not just any Lab for many are hyper and I wanted a  mellow dog.  Rocky was definitely mellow.  I knelt down beside him and touched the chain link gate and he just leaned against my hand and looked at me.  I said to him, “Rocky how would you like to come live with me?”  He just continued to look at me with those big brown eyes and then a little flop flop with the tip of his tail on the cold hard concrete floor.  I told him, “don’t worry pal, I will be back in a few minutes and your coming to live with me.” 

When all was said and done I had paid the $25 fee for him and while we were walking out the door, the guy said “He is one lucky boy, he had until tomorrow and we were gonna have to put him to sleep.” 

I lived just up the street from the pound so we walked home the 3 blocks and we were just barely  made it, having to stop a few time for Rocky to rest.  I was looking for a mellow dog but this was a little to mellow especially for a dog being only  a year and 3 months old.  By the time we got to my house he was fully out of gas.   I thought maybe he was just hungry and weak from being in that jail house for dogs on death row.  So for the next couple of days I tried to feed him high quality dog food but he wasn’t that hungry and still real sluggish.  So I decided to take him in to the vet and see what they could figure out what was up with him.  The tests came back with worms, mites, rickets, malnutrition and probably not eating because of a broken heart but he had definitely been mistreated health wise.  So I got the medications to help with his problems and fed him red meat everyday for 2 months.  At first he could barley make it 30 or 40 yards before getting to tired, then gradually after a few weeks he could  make it around the block and then I started out gradually taking him on short slow trots next to my bike.  After 6 months of this he finally became a healthy happy energetic dog.  He could then run with me alongside the bike for hours, chase rabbits and coyotes when we hiked through the back country.

Over the 13 years that rocky was with me, he was my loyal companion.  I was never without him.  He went everywhere with me.  He was so loyal I remember one party in particular I went to.  Rocky was out in the front yard, these were the days when there were no leash laws being enforced so dogs ran free.  This house had no fenced yard so Rocky was free to roam if he wanted which he never did, he always waited for me no matter where.  The party went on into the late hours and I was fairly saturated.  We had walked to the party and when I left I went out the back door and wobbled home about a mile away.  In the morning when I woke up I realized that rocky wasn’t with at home, then I figured I had forgotten him at the party.  I walked back to where the party was but before I got there I could see Rocky on the front lawn still patiently waiting for me to come out the front door.  I felt it wouldn’t be right to walk up to him and say Hey Rocky, I came back to get you after forgetting you last night.  So I walked up the alley to the back of the house, went in the back door and came out the front  door so he wouldn’t know that I had forgotten him and said, “ok rocky, lets go home.”

TIME TO RUN

I have always been athletic.  Even as a kid growing up with 5 brothers I was indeed, and still am to some extent, a tomboy.  Playing tag, army and most outdoor fun was a daily activity for me.  By the time I was 16, I was working out regularly and intergrading this activity as a lifestyle.  Now at 52 I have continued to work out 5-6 days a week along with surfing.  But I had this nagging sense of need to find and incorporate a cardio work out into my life.  I could surf hours and still have endless energy but running seemed exhausting. I had always looked at runners and thought, wow that looks like a lot of hard work, I don’t think I could ever do that but at the same time admired their devotion.

“I need more cardio work”, I told my husband Glen.  “Maybe I could run in place each day starting with 3 minutes and increase it as I became use to the huffing and puffing.”  Feeling my heart healthier already the idea of maybe even reaching the 5 minute mark in a few weeks was a reality, “cool”, I thought as I trotted in place.  Glen gave me an encouraging smile, kissed my cheek and said, “Ya, go for it!”

So onward I went, determined to reach that 5 minute mark.  After finally reaching the 5 minute mark of trotting in place it was, to say the least, a great thrill for me.  I next decided to try my evolving love for running outside on one of our trips to Northern Baja a year ago.  There is a 3.25 mile loop which we refer to as the circuit in this desolate area of Baja that we camp and surf at every fall and winter.  Within this 3.25 mile circuit dirt road you will find various rocks of all sizes, soft dirt, hard dirt, maybe some mud if the tides are extreme combined with big waves, sand and some small hills.  The visuals are breathtaking.  Mountains on the background, various cactus and shrubbery serve well on the eyes.  Yes this was my beginning of outside running or as I called it, my walk/runs.

At the time I didn’t have proper running shoes since my movement consisted of 5 minutes of in place trotting.  So I laced up my Sketchers, called for my 2 dogs to come along with mommy for a, um, run and off we went!   A few minutes of walking followed by a few seconds of running was my beginning that day.  I smiled as I would see a big bolder up ahead and say to my loyal 4 legged boys, “come on, lets make it to that rock.”  And when I did I was beaming with pride.  I’d make it back to camp where Glen would be anxiously waiting for me.  I’d come trotting in, my face all red and sweaty and dead tired but excited beyond words.  I would give Glen detailed descriptions of how far I made it running and then walking.  He was so proud of me.  Each day I would head out and hope to run just a little farther than I had the day before.  After 2 months I could run the entire circuit, rocks, sand and all without stopping as I concentrated so as not to trip over those rocks or sink in that sand and dirt.  I was hooked, running was now a part of my life and my heart.

THE PAINFUL LOSS OF BOOJUM

It was winter in Baja, Boojum had finally recovered from a tough time with pancreatitis and was now his old self again at the age of 13 and ready to chase those whiley coyotes.  On this particular day the offshore winds were blowing a stiff 30 mph and dust was blowing all thru the air.  I had just come in from surfing and decided to go diving for some fresh halibut for dinner.  My girlfriend Roberta was back at camp with Boojum.  The tide was low and soon the Mexicans from the nearby villages would be driving up the beach getting ready to pick their bait off the rocks for their lobster traps.  They would also be driving down the dirt road in front of our camp.

While I was diving in a pond about a ½ mile away from our camp I heard someone yelling my name.  I looked up and it was a friend of ours frantically waving his arms.  My stomach knotted right then.  I knew something had happened.  I could h ear him saying, “ Boojum!  Someone ran over Boojum!”  My mind went mad, I couldn’t believe what he was saying but it was real.  I was frantic, he said one of the trucks ran over Boojum but he is not dead but he is squirming in the road and crying.  I remember yelling, “Oh shit!!  Oh shit!!  NO!  NO! NO!  Boojum!  Boojum!  NO!! NO!!”  I jumped on my bicycle and rode as fast as I possibly could.  I couldn’t or didn’t want to believe that Boojum had gotten run over.  NO!  NO!  NO! Then I saw Roberta crying, knelling next to Boojum and I could see him squirming and banging his head against the ground in pain, crying, yelping, trying to move and get away from the pain.  I dropped on the road beside him and put my hands under his head to keep him from banging it on the ground.  The sounds of agony coming from him were like daggers being plunged into my heart.  My mind was going crazy not knowing how to ease his pain.  Roberta said through her tears that she was out behind camp with Boojum trying to keep the partition to our bano from blowing away and the next thing she knew Boojum was laying in the road and a truck had just passed by and she then realized Boojum was hurt. Our friend came running over and she asked him to go and get me. 

Boojum kept banging his head into my hands and I was pretty sure they had run over his back and that they mist have crushed his back section.  It was the most hideous sound he was making, it was killing us to watch him in such pain.  I laid there and tears kept flooding my eyes.  I must have laid with him in the road and Roberta by my side for 40 minutes trying to figure out what to do.  By now it was around 4:30 to 5pm and the nearest vet was 2 hours away and would be closed by the time we got there in the dark.  Boojum had been crushed and there wasn’t much any vet could do except put him out of his misery.  Another friend happened to come by and we got Boojum onto a blanket, him screaming the whole time as we moved him to our camp and laid him under the awning.  The winds were still hollowing offshore and the temperature was dropping to the low 50’s.  We tried to make Boojum as comfortable as possible but he kept banging his head and screaming but he was now becoming horse from screaming so much he was just making a wheezing sound.  It was tearing myself and Roberta to pieces.  We placed padding under his head and blankets to keep him as warm as possible.  The wind was whistling through our camp.  I changed and got some warm clothes on.  Both Roberta and I were crying uncontrollably by not being able to help Boojum’s misery. 

As the night came on and the winds got stronger and colder I laid beside Boojum with thoughts of putting him out of pain.  I thought if using a sledge hammer, that about killed me to think of crushing my dogs head, I couldn’t do that, what if it didn’t work.  Then I thought if taking a knife but them I couldn’t bare to do that either.  Everything seemed to crazy and all the time I am still hearing him crying out in pain.  It was killing me over and over and I couldn’t help but  keep crying out his name, Boojum, Boojum, Boojum.  I just wanted to stop his suffering but it was going to be a long grueling painful night. Roberta was in the camper crying her heart out having to listen to Boojum and then me.  Boojum, Roberta and I had been through a lot together with Boojums broken back, the surgery and the recovery then he got pancreatic from the pain meds and we nearly lost him then.  He came back from all those things so it seemed like he got such a cheap shot after all his struggles back to being healthy again.  I didn’t want to lose him but I knew I was this time, but how could I ease his pain, there was no way.  So the entire night was spent trying to keep him from hurting himself anymore and just painfully waiting for day to come so we could take him in and have him put out of his misery.  There was maybe 5 minutes every once in a while through the whole night that Boojum wasn’t trying to scream, his mouth was barely open and his head was banging but barely anymore sound came from him.  I was just about dead with sadness, my heart was splitting in two. 

Morning finally came, the winds were still howling.  We broke camp and managed to get Boojum into the truck.  Then we made the long slow journey out the dirt road to the highway and onto Guerro Negro.  Neither one of us remembers the drive except the military checkpoints where we would say to the officers that our dog was dying and we needed to get him to the vet.  They would say they were sorry and give the sign of the cross, and let us pass with no questions asked.  When we got to town we were lucky the vet was there.  The whole time since we left camp Boojum never cried out, we were somewhat relieved to see him have peace for a while.  I told the vet that I thought his back had been broken and that he had been crushed by a truck.  He took a look at Boojum and felt around on him and asked me what I wanted to do and that he was sorry that there was nothing he could do.  I held back my tears but he could see the pain in my face and my eyes and I said please put him to sleep.

He went into his office and soon returned with his kit and nurse.  Roberta whispered in Boojum’s ear, “I love you Mr. Booj” and left the truck in tears so the vet and nurse could begin.  He gave him an injection and then I saw Boojum take his last sigh and exhale into peace.  The vet turned to me with tears slightly in his own eyes and said, “he is such a noble looking dog, such a beautiful dog, I am very sorry my friend.”  That just took me over the edge, I lost it and had to go on the other side of the truck where I couldn’t be seen.  I later came back and thanked him, paid the bill and we drove away.

Now again we drove the opposite way back to camp only this time in a deeper void of life.  This time we came to the military checkpoints they remembered us and I slowly shook my head and they didn’t stop us, they just waved us through with the sign of the cross and on we went.

There is a place where we stopped on the way back to camp on the dirt road.  The place we stopped  and carried Boojum to the top of a hill.  A place he had picked out years ago to be buried.  We carried him up after digging his grave and preparing it for his cremation.  We placed charcoal  and wood in the grave then placed Boojum wrapped in his favorite blanket on top.  Then we covered him with more wood.  Then I poured gasoline in the grave and we cremated him.  Later we buried him deeper and placed large stones on top of him to keep the coyotes from digging him up.

There he lays at peace over looking all the area where he spent most of his life chasing lizards, coyotes, ravens and wondering down to his favorite campsites for his banquet dinner engagements.

We Miss You Boojum.

HOW I FOUND BOOJUM

My girlfriend at the time and I were out one night driving around and decided to stop at a pet store with fish, birds, cats and dogs.  We weren’t looking for a pet, just out looking around and we thought it would be fun to look at some fish and birds.  We had just put our dog Rocky to sleep 2 months prior so we weren’t expecting to find a new pet.  We went in and we had been looking around for about a half hour and I walked to the back of the pet store where there were some cages.  I was looking at lizards and bigger birds and cats and then I came to a cage with these two little white balls of fur, little fat puppies.  I looked one the description and it said they were a Akita Siberian Husky mix.  They weren’t any bigger then the palms of my hands put together.  But I wasn’t looking for a pet so I just took a good look at those cute puppies and kept walking, slowly away.  I found my girlfriend looking at some fish and said, “hey, you wanna see some cute puppies?”  She looked at me suspiciously and said sure, sort of questionably.  We went over and looked and then she asked if we were getting one and I said “no I don’t think we are ready.”  I don’t think it sounded to convincing though.  But we left the pet store and got in the truck and started driving down the road.  We hadn’t gone to far and we were talking and then she said, “they sure were cute weren’t they?”  And I said they sure were.  Right then we looked at each other and I pulled over into a nearby parking lot, stopped the car and said, “ ah, do you think we should?” And all she said was, “they sure were cute.”  That was it.  We drove back, took a look at them both once more and picked out the male. We paid $39.95 for him and we were on out way home with our new puppy.  I named him Boojum  after the Boojum tree in Baja, otherwise known as the cirrus plant.