Saturday, March 19
The crew and I have a lot to accomplish on the day I’m writing this post. For that reason I’m leaving out a report of our doings on Saturday — our short walk on a trail and our trip into town where I have a conversation with a resident of Arivaca. Maybe I’ll write about that in the next post.
For now, I give you a glimpse of what it’s like living with Reggie Man.
~ ~ ~
Reggie is quite attached to his green, stuffed-dog toy, “Limey.”
Lately Limey receives more attention than any of the other toys. Even more than Sock Monkey, Pink Piggy, Armadillo, or Blue Monkey . . . combined.
It’s not a game of fetch. Not in the purest sense. I sling Limey the distance of Reggie’s tether, Reggie fetches him, races back to my lounger, and then refuses to give him up. It’s a two-part game. — A combination of Fetch and Tug-of-War. One could say it’s Fetch, Terrier Style.
Reggie bites him without mercy. He shakes him with fury. Each time I toss Limey, Reggie pounces on him with a vengeance.
“Reggie! I thought you loved Limey!”
Reggie insists on bringing Limey on our walks.
Limey hits the dirt.
“Reggie, are you telling Limey to wait here for you?”
When we return to camp, Reggie wants to bring Limey inside.
“No, Reggie. You can’t, honey. He’s an outdoor toy. No. I said no and that’s final.”
And so it goes . . . .
Sunday, March 20
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