windthread

Puppy's look out.   be sure to double click

Tay and i had  gone back down to the Wall Garden to bring up the wide rake.   As usual,  Puppy  appeared.   As i sat at the picnic table,  i heard an odd sound  and suddenly She lept from her tower to the Wall Garden to the middle of the table,  her gaze riveted  across  the road and up beyond the trees into the far pasture across the way.  The sound again and this time,  close, was a growl…a  guttural growl and Tay lunged down to the  fence line.   After a second i could see movement beyond the trees and then the  what i thought was the Coon Hound that now and then gets loose.  but so far away,  i wasn't sure.    And i realized just how vigilant Puppy is.  how exquisitely aware.   

Her Story…it's been a long time since told ….  It was the last leg of the drive straight though from New Mexico to here.  2 trucks,  a flatbed and a UHaul.  A Goat Boat and horse trailer.  17 Goats.   Merced California.   We were stopped at one of those truckstop gas stations, late at night  and i was out in the farside of the parking lot with Tay on her 12 ft lead.  Tay suddenly lunged and there,  coming out from under the dumpster was a tiny kitten.   Walking directly toward us,  while Tay barked and pulled.   Put Tay back in the Uhaul and walked toward the dumpster…the kitten was just There.  crouched,  exposed,  far from the dumpster or anything,  just there in  the glare of the lights.   I picked it up…the size of one hand…not even ready to be weaned….carried it some distance away and carefully dropped it over a fence into the weeds.  It had no tail.  Jenny came up at this point and i told her and we turned around,  Tay back out and barking… and there it came.  Again.   stopping to just crouch maybe 3 ft from Tay's mouth.   Jenny said      take it.  a short conversation….i don't want to.  I don't want a kitten.   My old cat Tazmeena in a travel crate,   i had no idea where i was going.   Jenny…just take it.  it's a big hill.    I turned to walk away as she scooped it up and took it to her truck where Puppy rode silent and still the rest of the way.   They put her on a towel in the old Toyota with a bowl of water and some softened Tazmeena food.  In the morning,  i looked.  still alive.  still there.   quietly wide eyed.   Left the door open and walked away  telling Tay…No Cat.  They all arrived and we set out to see this Hill.     As we picked our way through the dense brush and poison oak vines,   there she was.   Making her way  just behind but next to us.  I said….she's like a puppy.  And Puppy it was.   and Puppy She is.    That first winter i offered an open door to her,  being unused to cold Rain.   But she would only come in to look around but then go to the door.   She slept in a little bed made in the horse trailer.   Tazmeena died that spring.   But Pup never wanted to be inside.   Sometimes still,  i call her but no.   She belongs to the Hill.  The Hill belongs to her.  She is so the color and pattern of this Place you often can't see her.  But she's always there.   Vigilant.  Claiming.  I admire her.