Howling at the Moon? Barking at the sun?

Today it dawned ome that we all live like canines at some point or another. Once upon a time, I was working with RWR down in the Mojave Desert and we were walking along the proposed route of a power windmill access road. We had been walking quietly, each mixed in his own thoughts, when we heard a noise behind us. RWR turned around first and yelled at me to “run like hell”. We both headed toward his jeep and behind us were…

the canines from hell

Fearsome looking, mouths yelping, paws padding the desert carpet. A group of feral dogs pursued us. I caught up with RWR and he hauled butt the last 30 feet or so to his jeep. I hopped in the back and he rumbled around in his bag and out came a 357 Smith and Wesson. The lead dog was about 50 feet from the jeep when RWR let out with a few well placed shots. The sound of the pistol reverberated across the desert and we looked at the lead feral hound.

He was stopped dead in his track and two big ole bullet wounds with seeping blood had appeared. The other dogs stopped on a dime and stared at us. RWR cocked the trigger back on the revolver. The dogs still stared at us. Then they smelled the “down and dead”. They all suddenly launched at the fallen one and left us alone.

We simply watched them devour the downed dog. Fangs ripped and tore. It was a primordial spectacle. RWR and I ended up at a local beer hall and ruminated on the dogs for awhile and over 2 pitchers or so of el cheapo yet cold brew. We both believed that that day RWR’s cool nerve and primarily carrying “heat” saved us. But the main thing was the scene of carnage after. It was frightful but rather mysterious. It took us back perhaps to what life was like on the savannah when the animals battled.

But most of all it tied RWR and I together in yet another way. As the years flow by, I have lost contact with those people. Its so easy to move on and leave the people behind. New people are awaiting behind the bend in the road. But no one could ever shoot the feral dogs and save my life like RWR did. Perhaps I will never call RWR again. I feel separated and different and I don’t know what I would say. So much has gone past and I’ve changed so much. My son went through losing his only friend and asked what it was like and how long the sense of loss would stay. Perhaps it stays forever but adults learn it like our other paltry sum of controllable emotions. That day in the back of the jeep I had a emotion not controllable by adult training. Fear makes the bloog pulse, the sweat flow, and the feelings grow. It also makes for great stories to kids