Thursday, August 10, 2017

Daxorama

We may be able to reel Dax in from the dark side after all.  By we, I mean, myself and my two esteemed colleagues, Peter and Garrett.

I've been enjoying Peter reprimanding the puppy and keeping him in line.

Garrett is warming up to him.  Dax follows him like he's the sun to his moon.

Part of Cole's legacy is that Garrett has learned awesome trail etiquette.  He gets ahead, but waits at junctions and turns back to check on me.  So, technically, he's walking the puppy, not me!

The Great Gazoo (Garrett) does not swim.

He'll get in a foot of water, but no more.  Wednesday, I had dragged a contractor out to the middle of the woods to assess a dam that is in danger of collapsing due to the monsoons we get around here.  One entire side of the dam had sloughed off, leaving a deep pool of water where the water could churn and further erode the dam.  Because all the churning made a blanket of white foam, we couldn't tell how deep it was. Ever so helpful Garrett had been staring at that whiteness from above.  He sprung up and jumped in it.  The contractor and I watched him go completely under, to which he stated: "five feet".  While I was trying to cut my way through the thorny vines to rescue him,
Dax had been exploring the creek bed on the opposite shore and threw himself in after Garrett.  

Let me stop this story to tell you about my new work boots.  Wednesday was my first day wearing them.  After two years, my old Ariat boots leaked like sieves, the heels were completely worn down, the uppers sagged around my ankles... I decided to treat myself.  
It was a conspiracy to see how much swamp water new boots could hold.
Back to the rescue... Garrett gets pulled out, but Dax is fighting a strong current, bobbing his way down into the swamp.  I get tangled in the thorns, but I have Dax.  The contractor has to come and rescue us both.   

"That was gnarly, dude!"
The only explanation I have for Garrett's leap of stupidity is his love for snow.

During our trip out West last Winter, Garrett would amuse himself by diving into snowbanks.  Maybe the foam looked like snow?
Who knows!
What I do know is that a 9 week old puppy can be placated with an apple.

We take an apple to bed at night now to keep him from teething on the pillowcases. So, what if he makes applesauce at night and hides his apple in your hair. He's QUIET, that's all that matters.  

The twice daily walks are having to get longer and longer to tucker him out.  Seems he builds endurance quickly.  I'll soon need to hook up my bike to the baby trailer for Peter!

The Chosen One (to teach me of patience, consistency and tolerance).

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