Last fall I came to live here with Fuzzy and Mom and Dad. (There are cats and cows also, but Fuzzy, Mom, and Dad are important to me, the others I don’t really care about.)

It is a long story about how I got here and why, but I think I’ll just let you hear about coming to live HERE.

I picked this place!

No, really I did!

See in my former life I had never seen a live trap before, so when I found myself on the loose I just kept following my nose.  I followed so many smells, some good, some not so good.  I threaded my way through the creek bottom and up the draw and just kept on keeping on when my tummy started to grumble and growl.  I thought about going back to where I started on this adventure, but I had traveled so far I sort of got lost, and it rained.  My nose doesn’t work very well when it rains.  All I can smell is mud and fresh air when it rains.

Well, there I was way out there in land full of sagebrush, Chico brush, lots of weeds and not a dog dish in site.  I kept on keeping on; sometimes being run off by people in strange houses until I started coming up on what I now know is farm ground.

That night I saw a dog crate with a tin of cat food in it, since my back bone and my tummy button had now met, I decided to risk my chances that whomever or whatever dog lived there wouldn’t come back before I got the cat food eaten.  I zipped into the dog crate just like a blazing arrow and gobbled up that teeny tiny little can of cat food in one slurp!

I even lick the can clean.

But was such a tiny little can it didn’t even begin to fill up the hollow spot where my stomach used to be.

After a while I realized that if I were going to find any more food I had best be going.

Only I couldn’t go.

I couldn’t turn around or even back out. Somehow the dog crate door had shut. And it shut with me inside.

Time went on, it got dark, I went to sleep, suddenly the sun was coming up and Dad was there looking at me in the crate.

“You’re not a raccoon,” he said.  “Just where did you come from, little dog?”

He picked up the crate and put me and the crate on the back of the four-wheeler and took me home, oops back to their house.

Mom did some phoning around and came and talked to Dad about some people down by the river who want a beagle.

So Dad loaded me up in the pick-up (still in the crate) and drove off.

Five miles later Dad stopped the truck opened the live trap—I was in a live trap!

The new people said they were really happy to have me; I wagged my tail several times and put on a most sincere face.

Then Dad got in the truck and drove off.

These new people got a rope and put it around my neck and led me over to a shed with a dog dish and a huge bowl of water.  Gave me a couple of pats on the head and went back into their house.

I ate some of the food, drank some water and fell asleep in the sun.

I was really very tired.

Later on the sun went behind the shed, that woke me up.  I sat up and looked toward the house but it looked like everyone was gone.  I sat there a long time. A really long time, then decided that I didn’t want to live here.

I know there was food and water, but I wanted to live with Mom and Dad.

It took some more time to get the rope off my neck but I did it.  I chewed and chewed and chewed until I was free.

I had smelled the air very carefully as Dad took me to this new house so I had a very good idea of which way to go and how far it was to get back.

It took me three days to get home.  But I made it.  I got home around noon that day, the third day, and just plain crashed in Fuzzy’s dog house.  Fuzzy was sleeping under the lilac bush; he didn’t mind.

Boy, did I give Dad a start when he saw me in Fuzzy’s dog house!  He didn’t call me or anything just peered and looked real hard, then he called Mom to come see what was in the dog house.

Once Mom saw me I knew I was going to get to stay.

She said any dog that would cross a bridge over a river, walk five miles to make it back here must want to live with us. 

So here I am.

Oh, yes.

I had lots of porcupine quills, which Mom had to remove first before she went to town to get me my own dog house and dog bed.

Porcupines are pretty amazing animals.  I had never smelled one so I thought I would get closer and see just what animal smelled like that.  I crouched down and crept forward, every muscle in my body taut and ready for action.  Suddenly the porcupine turned just as I sprang through the air, and he let go of a jillion little arrows/quills that stabbed me every which way.

I tried to change course.

It didn’t work, I don’t change course in mid-air very well.

I landed right beside him.

Bam, the tail got me! Those quills slapped me right across the nose. Sure did hurt too, brought tears to my eyes. I hollered, which scared off the porcupine.  I tore off burning up about three miles trying to get the heck out of there.

Mom took one look at the mess of my nose, one side of my face and part of my long, soft floppy ear, turned right around and headed back into the house.

I whined and waged my tail, sideling up to Dad so he could see the fine mess I was in.

I waited patiently.  My nose had stopped pounding about two hours ago but it was now swelling.  Mom came back with pliers and a pair of scissors.  She told Dad to hold onto me while she cut off the little end of the quills, letting the air out so the barb would let go.  Then she started pulling.

Oh! My! It hurt!!!

Felt like she was pulling off my whole nose!  My ear didn’t hurt near as much as my nose!

I took it without a whimper —I wanted them to see I was a strong dog.

Well, I guess I did whimper a little bit. And I made a wet spot.

I didn’t mean to do it, but it hurt so bad something just had to go, so I did.

Did I get in trouble?

Na!  They were all glad the quills were out and I was glad I had a home.

Boomer

Ute Party Visits Delta in 1913  (http://deltacountyhistoricalsociety.wordpress.com)