Spike, Bridget, and I make another trip into Quartzsite.
“Okay, enough hanging around camp. Let’s go to town!”
Our main purpose is to pick up a bag of kibble to supplement the new meat diet the crew is on.
Photo for purpose of illustration. Do NOT try this at home. Take the wrapper off first!
Let me tell you, they LOVE having turkey for supper every day.
When I put the ground turkey in the big frying pan, Spike commences to bark and hop up and down like he’s on springs. Bridget waits patiently, her eyes glued on me.
Anyway . . .
We pull into the market on Main Street.
In fact we stop at both markets on Main Street. Neither one has kibble I want to feed to my crew. It’s ersatz kibble. You know the kind. Stupid brands like Big Red. I don’t buy any.
We do have a bag of kibble at home that’s fairly high quality (The first two ingredients listed are meat.). Trouble is, the crew isn’t fond of it. Oh well, I’m not always fond of what I eat either. (Update: They’re eating it.)
Well, as I’m cruising around one of the tiny markets . . .
Why a photo of a cactus here? Because I don’t have one of dog bones, that’s why.
I happen to look in the meat case, and what do I see? Dog bones! Big beef bones with meat hanging on them for $1.69 a pound!
I ask the butcher to wrap up the two smallest bones, which are still big bones for the crew.
Bridget and Spike are gonna’ have a grand time with these!
Before leaving the parking lot, I fill up some water jugs from a dispenser by the door.
A normal person would cruise the tents and booths that have overtaken Quartzsite.
People drive many miles for this. Maybe if someone urged me to go, drove through the traffic and pedestrians (without hitting any), found a parking spot and parked the vehicle, held my hand and pulled me along, I would do the Quartzsite thing.
By myself, the whole scene gives me the heebie-jeebies. I drive by, zippity-do-dah, right on out of town and back to our camp in the desert.
Returning to Kofa Wildlife Refuge, while bouncing up Palm Canyon Road . . .
I spy a Casita camped over by a wash. Hmm . . . I wonder who that is.
Darling, dapper Diego (Click to enlarge.)
A man and woman are sitting outside. The woman waves. I wave back.
Hey, that looks like Chris and Clete!
Chris recognizes me at the same moment I recognize her. She leaps up from her chair and sprints to the road, while I hit the brakes and jump out of the Perfect Tow Vehicle. Her husband Clete follows.
Diego trots gracefully toward me and toward the barking of the crew.
Of course, he’s graceful!
Have you ever met a clumsy Italian Greyhound?
I let Bridget and Spike out of the PTV to play with Diego, whom they met two years ago at a Casita gathering at Quartzsite. Incidentally, I met Chris and Clete at the same gathering.
Diego’s gentle face
Well, we chew the fat and share a few laughs.
The afternoon before the morning Chris and Clete break camp, Chris comes over and we talk and laugh and talk and laugh . . . .
Chris has that effect on me. Maybe she does that to everyone. I know I always laugh more around her.
I can’t wait to give Bridget and Spike their beef bones.
I make a big production out of it.
“C’mon, guys, have I got a treat for you!” I sit in my camp chair, the wrapped bones in my lap. Bridget and Spike rush over and sit at my feet, eyes expectantly on the prize.
“You’re gonna’ LOVE this,” I predict in a tone meant to tantalize.
Slowly I unwrap the butcher paper.
Bridget’s expression is intense. Spike is about to burst with anticipation.
“Here ya’ go, Bridget. One for you.” She sniffs the bone and hesitates, so I place it at her feet.
“Here’s yours, Spike.”
His eyes are as big as cue balls.
His jaws rip the bone out of my hands. He carries his treasure over to the new dog bed, sets himself down, and tears into it with the ferocity of a wild beast.
Notice the two-fisted grip.
“Bridget? Don’t you like yours, honey?”
Bridget gives the bone another half-hearted sniff, then looks at me as if to say, “You want me to chew on that thing? Ewww. It’s disgusting!” She walks off.
Oh well, now Spike has two bones. I’m sure he won’t mind!
I watch Spike work on that bone for several minutes before going inside to put away the groceries.
Bridget doesn’t seem disappointed. She watches me tidy up the kitchen. Then we go outside again. (Bridget’s my shadow.) Spike is unaware of our presence.
He’s really working that thing over!
Well, Spike chews on those two bones for the rest of the afternoon, taking quick breaks to get a drink of water, to relieve himself, and to eat his turkey supper.
Back at it some more!
The guy chews that bone until dark when I gently interrupt, pick him up and carry him inside. I put the bones in a plastic bag and place the bag in the refrigerator.
The next morning . . .
There he goes! Getting down to the marrow!
I sip my coffee and watch Spike gnaw on the bone. Nothing matters except the bone. Nothing exists except the bone. Right now Spike is truly, completely, happily a dog.
As for Bridget? Well, that’s another story . . . .
Winter sky after sunset, looking westward from our camp at Kofa National Wildlife Refuge
rvsue
NOTE: I don’t know about you, but I thoroughly enjoyed the avalanche of comments written in response to the previous post. Several readers commented for the first time. Readers who haven’t commented in a long time appeared again. And, of course, many of the “regulars” joined in, too.
If you read the previous entry soon after it was posted , you might enjoy taking a second look at the comments. As I type this there are over 220 comments! I appreciate all who took the time to add their personal touch to my blog. You’re the greatest!
THANKS TO ALL WHO SHOP AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!
Here are a few of the purchases made recently . . .
Goal Zero Black Nomad Solar Panel
Sunday Afternoons Play Hat
Amplified HD Digital Outdoor HDTV Antenna with Motorized 360 Degree Rotation
Kal Nutritional Yeast Flakes
Volcano Collapsible Cook Stove
AmeriBag Classic Leather Healthy Back Bag
“FLASHBACK”
Bear Butte State Park, South Dakota, July 2012
The Best Little Trailer and the best little girl (photo taken moments before a storm arrived)
