My Cardboard Box

The Help

with one comment

I was given my first and likely only dog a year after I came out here to the Mojave. Partly because I wasn’t employed outside the house then (I was an online grader for 7th grade essays  – more about that experience sometime)  and it was felt by Household Command that I should have something to occupy the time when I wasn’t earning my pay.  That,  and a friend of hers that bred Black Labs back East called out of the blue and announced that she had ” just the one for me” and had her husband fly out with the pup.

I didn’t have dogs growing up. My parents were cat-people. But I worked with dogs when I was in the Navy (with rather interesting scars to prove it),  and part of my job at my last place of employment had been looking after the owner’s Black Labs, including helping him train them for duck hunting. So for the next year, mornings were filled with grading (or not) and afternoons with training.  The duck-hunting stuff doesn’t work too well out here (duh) but it was applicable to other things.

It’s been eight years now and some gray hair on both of us. I like having him around. He earns his keep-more or less. He fetches the paper while ignoring the quail, jackrabbits, and the occasional complimentary copy of the L.A. Times.  He insists on carrying the mail (or my wallet if there is none), and wakes me up in the morning like an apologetic butler.  Weekends and holidays included.

Nowadays though, he mostly helps keep the ghosts away.


Written by PappyBro

July 30, 2012 at 21:21

Posted in Musings, The Mojave

One Response

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  1. The evidence suggests the breeder friends of Household Command had you pegged. 🙂

    trailing wife

    August 1, 2012 at 11:41

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