Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘cholla cactus’

Screaming at a toddler not to touch something hot can be effective, sometimes, but not nearly as effective, long term, as allowing that curious mind to experience pain. The same is true of dogs, although they seem to have slightly more built-in survivorship skills than toddlers do, with one exception I can think of, dogs and porcupines. I cannot tell you how many times I have pulled porcupine quills from the muzzle, nose and face of the same dogs. They never seem to learn.

Maybe it’s the chase. Rabbits, squirrels, all those creatures that run and rarely get caught are a source of pleasure, dogs love the pleasure of the chase. Porcupines are disdainful. They scurry, but not quite fast enough to avoid the catch. Maybe they enjoy the reverse chase, knowing they will prevail.

Roger was a Boxer dog who never learned. The first time I saw him his head was as big as a soccer ball, filled with porcupine quills and swollen with inflammation. After anesthetizing the poor guy I spent almost two hours laboriously pulling quills, one at a time, out of him. I saw him at least three more time, maybe more, not nearly as loaded with quills, but obviously not hurt enough to learn, or maybe he had ADD. He was not the only dog I encountered with a similar problem when it came to porcupines.

The same phenomenon does not seem to exist when it comes to Cholla cactus, called the jumping cactus. During our recent travels, my dog Charlize knew to avoid getting close enough to that troublesome plant to experience it and I don’t recall treating the same dog more than once for a Cholla encounter. Charlize does love to chase small creatures. She has come amazingly close but has yet to capture one, but we haven’t run into a porcupine,…yet.

Read Full Post »

On the way over from San Diego to Phoenix I remembered my first time trip to San Diego. I was ten years old, the summer of 1946. The Second World War was over and my Uncle Sol, my Dad’s younger brother, was being mustered out of the Navy. The trip was made in our 1940 Chevy, before the multi-fabric, multi-color upholstery. The Chevy had new tires, but no air conditioning in fact I don’t remember a heater in that car, at least not one that functioned. To beat the summer heat we started after dark and Dad drove all night, no freeways or interstate highways to travel at seventy-five miles an hour. I don’t think Dad ever put that car over fifty. No radio either, not that there would have been a radio station to connect to anywhere in that desert, well, maybe in Yuma.

My brother and sister and I slept in the back seat, but I can remember waking up and listening in on the soft conversation taking place between Mom and Dad. Talking to keep awake, about mundane, every day subjects and their hopes and dreams, mostly concerning us kids. The road frequently dipped down then up through many gullies and washes, no bridges. I was concerned because there were stories about whole families being washed away in their car by a flash flood that originated in the mountains sending a wall of water gushing through those desert washes.

Old Blue, Charlize and I will make that trip to San Diego again soon, during daylight, on the interstate, at seventy-five, the radio tuned to a station playing Jazz, air conditioning if we need it. It will be different, better? Maybe. What’s the rush?

Here is Charlize in my brother’s back yard, and practicing her sit-stay, unhappily, in front of some cholla cactus, both near Cave Creek, AZ.

IMG_0047

Read Full Post »