Close Encounters

I had quite the wake-up call this morning. With Jerry off at a Dr appt, it was up to me to get up with the little doggos and take them out for their morning constitutional.

Happily, they didn’t wake me until 8:00 am, but it was pre-coffee, so I admit I wasn’t fully awake.

The minute I stepped out onto the porch , I knew something was amiss, but couldn’t pinpoint the problem.

At first, I thought the dogs just noticed the missing car, but then I saw the mohawk of stiff fur along Baxter’s spine, and Ronni was sniffing the porch decking with avid attention.

Concerned there might be wildlife about; I decided to call them back into the house and potty them on leash a little later, after doing a quick investigation – and as it turned out, I was not a minute too soon!

I shooed two very reluctant dachshunds through the mudroom and into the main house, then walked back to the front door with the intention of going out to check for prints (moose, bear, etc.).

Identification turned out to be super easy, as my front door window was suddenly framed with the huge head of a fluffy, red and white Saint Bernard, standing with his front feet on my door, looking in at me!

*Note; this very type of scenario is exactly why I keep telling Jer not to let Baxter out to potty unsupervised. While it’s true he won’t run off – there is no telling what else might wander by our semi-rural homestead. Jer continues to ignore my cautions. We are going to have another talk.

Victor, aka “Vinnie”, according to his name tag.

Anyway, after my heartbeat slowed from the surprise face-to-face, I took stock of the situation. The Saint Bernard looked fairly clean, well groomed and seemed friendly enough – but he wasn’t alone.

Further out in the yard was another dog, and this one was, if anything, even bigger. My best guess was a Husky/Karelian Bear Dog cross. Possibly some GSD (or heck, Great Dane?!?) mixed in? Easily over 100 lbs.

Before doing anything else, I paused and gave thanks that Baxter had come when called.

These two dogs had BEEN ON OUR PORCH already (Ronni’s animated sniffing proved that) and had obviously been nearby while I was pottying the dogs. While Ronni had been on leash, Baxter had not been.

This could have so quickly turned into a tragic situation. I honestly didn’t give a thought to the St. Bernard. The prick-eared Husky-looking dog though … he looked like the type of dog that would/could easily chase down and kill a rabbit (or small dog).

I’m not saying he would have – I’m just saying the thought passed through my mind and I was SO glad I hadn’t needed to race out onto our ice-rink of a yard, in my slippers, to attempt an intervention. 🥺

Early morning visitor.

After weighing my options, keeping these dogs (OK, especially the beautiful Saint Bernard) safe and off the streets won out and I cautiously opened the front door far enough to put a hand out to be sniffed while I spoke softly to him. The St. Bernard was wary but not unfriendly and after a few moments of indecision, he let me pet him. Once I had a hand firmly on his collar, I debated my next move.

Having come straight from bed, I was woefully unprepared for a dog rescue. I didn’t even have my phone with me. It was upstairs, plugged in next to the bed. If I let the dog go and ran for my phone, the two dogs would likely take off. All I could do then would be to put their description on our local Mat-Su Lost & Found Pets Facebook page and hope the owner might see it and know their general vicinity. Not good enough!

Fortunately, I had Rhonda’s leash close to hand, having just taken it off her minutes earlier. I casually clipped it to the big dog’s collar, giving me more control while offering the hesitant dog space to back away from me if he chose to.

I was also keeping a wary eye on the second dog, which had finally come up onto the porch as well. He didn’t look unfriendly, but way too shy to approach.

I wanted to bring the Saint into the mudroom, where I could (hopefully) safely close him in while I ran upstairs for my phone. I didn’t want to frighten him by pulling too hard on the leash and he wasn’t interested in kibble (the only “treats” I could put my hands on from the doorway).

Convincing him to come inside was quite the negotiation, but I didn’t have my glasses on and couldn’t read the numbers on this pretty boy’s dog tag. I needed my glasses and my phone!

Finally, I thought to set Baxter’s food dish on the floor well inside the mudroom. Kibble wasn’t the key, so I thought, maybe he was thirsty? Success! I had to shove his butt over to get the door shut, but he didn’t care.

Victor, happily lapping water from Baxter’s bowl.

It was pretty cute watching a 100+ pound St Bernard lapping water from a bowl sized for a 14# dachshund, but it did the trick. I refilled the tiny bowl and squeezed past him into the house – shooing indignant dachshunds away from the door and shutting it firmly behind me.

I took the precaution of kenneling the dachshunds, then retrieved both phone and glasses.

As soon as I had my glasses on and could read the phone number on Victor’s tag, I tried calling the owner, all the while praying he wasn’t at work in Anchorage or something.

My first call went to voicemail, so I left a message, switched to plan two and snapped a few photos. I apologize for the poor quality photos, but it was very close quarters.

Luckily, just as I finished a quick post to the Lost & Found Facebook page, my phone rang. Sure enough, it was a very relieved dog owner. I told him the situation – one dog in the mudroom and another anxious pacing the unfenced yard.

His first response was a hesitant, “Oh. Only two?” It seems he was still missing one dog. Sigh. I described the husky cross as dark, black and sable, with white chest and socks. He had already started his car and was on his way, but asked if I would please keep an eye out for a pretty red and white husky.

I agreed, and told him I could also update the Facebook page with a description of the still-missing red husky, for which he was grateful.

Victor was thrilled to be reunited with his daddy about 15 minutes later, and the shy, anxious husky turned into an adult version of a bouncing puppy, leaping into the cab of the truck as soon as the door opened.

I guess all’s well as ends well – at least for these two. Baxter and Rhonda, after gobbling down their own belated breakfast at nearly 10:00 am, proceeded to suspiciously sniff every corner of the mudroom. Btw, Baxter ate breakfast from an alternative food dish, since his was headed for the dishwasher. You can’t be too careful these days.

I hope the pretty red Husky finds her way home, or some other kind soul manages to entice her close enough to read her tag. Huskies can be much more people-shy than a goofy 10-mo-old St. Bernard.

First cup of coffee … 11:00 am. Groan!

Alone In the Darkness

When it’s dark as pitch outside, the lights around you have suddenly gone out and you can’t see your hand in front of your face … the last thing you want to hear is furtive movements in the brush.

The power has gone out in the entire area. It was Ronni’s late night potty walk and I was too far from the house to safely make my way back in the dark.

Having seriously poor night vision; without house lights, I may as well be blindfolded. Hard as I tried, I could only make out a few bare tree branches where they were eerily silhouetted against the almost full moon.

The moon itself filtered through the clouds like a single oncoming headlight on a foggy night, making my surroundings all the darker.

I could not see my feet, much less the ground around me. Which way was the house?

Something brushed against my leg and I stifled a shriek. Heart pounding, not sure whether to laugh or cry, I reached down expecting to pick up my dachshund, Ronni – but feeling around in the dark, I couldn’t find her.

Great. A black dog in the dark. More rustling in the brush caught my attention. Was it Ronni or something else? Why wasn’t she barking? Why didn’t she come?

I heard the resonating “hoo-hoooo” of an owl in the distance. Not enough of a distance to be reassuring when your small dog is running loose in the dark. Probably not right overhead though. I called her again, feeling vulnerable and way too alone in the dark.

Then the sound of branches bending came from my right. That was way too big of a sound to be Ronni. A moose? A bear?? Bigfoot? Or maybe a ghost? My imagination began running away with me.

I stepped backwards and immediately regretted it as my leg was caught up in the prickly branches of a dormant wild rose bush.

Flailing forward, I wasn’t sure if I wanted my hands to touch something or not.

Which way to go? Why hadn’t I brought my cell phone out with me? Tree branches swayed with the soft clatter of bare branches rubbing together. Dead leaves crunched underfoot. Wait. I wasn’t moving. What was making that sound?

The swirl and soft crunch of dry leaves continued as something stealthily approached. My hand went to my throat. There was nowhere to hide.

It’s a little easier to believe in ghosts when you are standing alone in the dark on a cold Alaskan night.

Then I saw it! Eeek!!!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN … from De & the Dachsies. 👻

Tis The Season

Last week at this time, I was enjoying the crunch of fallen leaves as Baxter and Rhonda romped along our driveway on a crisp, sunny day.

I was awed at the variety of colors that had transferred themselves from overhead to underfoot. You can sure tell the deep burgundy/mahogany of our now naked Ornamental Cherry tree from the yellows and golds of birch, willow and aspen.

A few nights of hard frosts followed by light, gusty winds rattling any leaves still tenaciously clinging to their host trees was all it took to send the last of them sailing to the forest floor.

I bundled Rhonda into her seasonally appropriate sweater this morning as our outside temperature was below freezing.

Yes, I also dressed Baxter in a warm sweater, but he chose to walk to the nearest bush, relieve himself and trot straight back to the front door, making his intentions clear. A cozy blanket on Dad’s lap was calling his name.

Since Ronni was NOT interested in returning to the house, I also bundled myself up in my heavier-weight merino leggings, warm jacket, scarf and hat. I know, in another couple of months, I’ll think fondly of 30F as comfortably warm, but even we Alaskans need time to adjust. Brrr!

Rhonda, nose to the air, chose our direction of travel today – down the driveway towards the utility easement where she has flushed a covey of spruce hens several times in the past month. She hasn’t managed to come away with more than a few tail feathers due to the restrictions of her 15’ leash, but still enjoys the game immensely.

We walked quite a ways down the dirt easement, which is an uneven walking surface at best, but well away from the traffic of the road. Good practice for me and an enriching environment for my nose-driven little hound.

A sleek black and white cat perched on a wooden fence near our walking path, pulling at Ronni’s prey drive, but since it thankfully didn’t jump down and run away, I was able to redirect Ronni, sending her back the way we came in pursuit of a stick. It was time to turn around anyway.

Personally, I’m just happy and relieved to be capable of safely navigating the driveway on foot again, much less the uneven ATV path along the easement, after several months of instability, pain and balance issues.

But more, maybe, about that some other time. Today, Ronni’s and I happily hunted squirrels and watched for the ever-elusive spruce hens, slogging through now sodden, hoar-frost encrusted dead leaves along a frozen dirt path.

Wow. What a difference a week makes. These photos were taken (today) in the same spots as some of my brightly-hued pictures from last week. We’ve had no rain, so the only things affecting them are freezing ( averaging 20F) nights and slightly thawing (mid 30F) days. Yuck.

Still, I appreciate the ability to take a walk with my dog outdoors right now and will take advantage of this for as long as weather permits. By next month, I’ll probably be back to walking laps at the local indoor track, where dogs are sadly not allowed.

On the bright side, that same indoor track, with it’s nice, even flooring, has been instrumental in my building my strength and balance back up after a late summer health scare and resultant depression. I’m not all the way back yet, but have made substantial gains.

I’m up to regularly walking between 1 1/2 to 2 1/2 miles at the indoor track, 2-3 times a week now. Plus, of course, my slower, more rambling walks with Ronni, which is excellent meditative therapy. Every step counts. I may not be getting any younger, but there’s no reason I can’t get stronger.

Sunshine and Seagulls

Oh, what a glorious morning!

After a much-appreciated good night’s sleep in our cozy cocoon of an RV, with no crows waking us at an ungodly hour, Ronni and I were ready to face the bright new day by 7:30 am.

And what a beautiful day it was! The entire week has been enjoyable, but this day greeted us with brilliant sunshine right from the start.

Coffee mug in one hand and Ronni’s short, 6’ leash in the other, we walked the few steps to the edge of the beach.

The vastness of Cook Inlet lay at my feet, quiescent as a mill pond. Across its quiet, blue surface, you could actually see the vague reflection of the massive Iliamna volcano, one of several volcanos visible along the far coast.

Redoubt volcano
Spurr is in the distance to the far right of Redoubt, shrouded by clouds.

By 10:00 am, after coffee, breakfast and a long walk, Ronni and I settled in for a bout of sitting outside and enjoying the sunshine – and more coffee. It was just delicious. ☀️

After trying out a couple of different spots, Rhonda decided full sun was best. 😉

This whole past week, I’ve tried to get out as early as my ‘vacation’ schedule allows to take in the antics on the beach at low tide.

On several occasions, I’ve counted as many as eight bald eagles and their adolescent offspring amidst the fray, powerful wings flapping and sharp beaks grabbing gobbets of fish away from the forever squabbling gulls and ravens (or crows … I remain undecided there).

Occasionally, an eagle with a beak clamped on its prize would break free of the group, spread its massive wings and soar across the sand, swooping low enough overhead to have me hugging Ronni close as the bird swept by and off to its nest on the nearby cliffs.

Eagle cliffs as seen from the campground.
The cliffs and lighthouse overlooks Deep Creek.
Deep Creek feeds into Cook Inlet just beyond the campground.

Much as I love watching the eagles, it’s the gulls who remain the comic relief along the shoreline. Gulls are such gregarious, contentious creatures.

All through the day, I’d look up and see, along with the many sea birds always patrolling the water’s edge, huge rafts of gulls floating by my campsite with the ever-moving tide.

Depending on the direction of the tide, the entire flotilla will be facing and drifting one way – an army of little ships, heading off to sea.

Later in the day, all the bobbing gray, brown and white bodies would drift back into sight, just as fixedly floating the other direction. I’d find myself whimsically wondering if it’s the same group … and what the plan is?

And then suddenly, without warning, they’ll all take wing simultaneously in a huge flurry of excitement.

Whatever the reason, I smile as I watch them take flight in a mad scramble, all B-lining for whatever it is. I’m reminded of the seagulls in “Finding Nemo”, all raucously shouting “Mine! Mine! Mine!”