Thursday, November 11, 2010

Something's Going On

                She started talking to the pear tree, something about how she'd miss it and remembering out loud when she first noticed it, sitting on the porch swing.  She usually talks to me, my mom does, but today, it was the tree.
                Some pretty strange things have been going on around here.  There are boxes everywhere and I smell a inky smell when she writes on the boxes.  When she types on the computer, I don't smell a thing.
  I try to stay out of the way so Caesar, PeeBee and I sit on the river deck and look out (PeeBee's is on my back, of course, his favorite thing).  Every now and then she walks out and stands there staring then she reaches down and scratches my head and says "It's going to be all right, Bo.  It will."  I don't know if she's making a promise to me or to herself.
                This past week we drove to a place with juniper trees and sagebrush and my dad pushed a button on the car's visor and a huge door opened up to this massive kennel.  Or at least, I thought it was a kennel because it was all cement.  But he drove the car in there!  Mom said it would be nice to have a garage so  guess that's what it is. 
                Up a few steps and we were in a big empty house with wood floors (my favorite thing!) and into a room where the sun flowed in like water onto cool tiles, warming them up.  I could lay on my belly and look out onto a big green lawn on both sides of that room.  Caesar can see outside from those sunny room doors and he stands barely six inches from his belly to the floor. I can see without having to put my paws up on the sills.  What a place!
                My mom and dad walked around, picked up some papers, turned up the heat, walked around some more, opened curtains then brought the suitcase inside along with two sleeping bags and a pretty pitiful pad that looked like the egg cartons my mom throws away. Still, when they put those sleeping bags together and went to bed on that pad, they were at the same level as Caesar and me and we curled our backs to them, wondering, what they were doing taking us to this place of new scents, different floors, low windows to the outside and a big deck without the view of the river but of craggy trees, sage, bunch grasses and air missing river and wheat but scents of something new.  High desert, my mom called it.  Mountains, my dad said. " Coming back," they both said and they sounded happy but they both had tears in their eyes too.
                It's all very strange.  I can't wait to tell PeeBee when we get back home.


  1. Bo, I was happy about your move until I read this blog about your mom. I was looking so forward to your family being only minutes from my porch that I never stopped to think how she might feel about ending this chapter of her life and leaving the place she has called home for so long. Now that I think about it I too am sad. Nearly thirty years ago I helped to move from this high desert place to Starvation point and unpack those boxes carried down the reptile road but now I will be returning for one last time to carry them out and load them into a truck and drive them up the reptile road leaving behind an important chapter of my own life. Memories flood my mind of long walks on the rocky bluffs and the river bank with dogs and my new found friend, rattlesnakes in ditches, badgers in the road, rats in the boat, cats in the bathtub and bathing in the river with my new found family. I'll always remember silt on the jeans in the bottom of the washer, long trips to the store through deep snow drifts, movies without endings and icecream neverending. As my eyes fill with tears knowing that this will be the last trip through what once was a field of grain, down the steep winding serpintine road. I think of Hunzie bunzie and Josie Mosey aka Mrs. Butterworth, of Henry the cat and Henry the mule, of Rickie and Kipper and little lost spanials. Now they come full circle back to this junipar place I can see book two of their Homestead adventure and I can't wait to get to know you better and be a part of their lives again.

  2. Bo, changes happen in our people's lives. They can't always explain the complex emotions that go along with those changes, and they know we can't understand what's going on. But I'm pretty sure your people are like mine; they love us and they'll always look out for us, no matter where the changes take them. So you tell that to PeeBee (and don't let them accidentally pack him into any of those boxes!).

    Tynan the Black Lab

  3. Hi Bo. I just got the message from your Mom about the move. I've really been out of touch. So sad, but so exciting too. New smells, new friends for you.