Tuesday, August 29, 2006
New Beginning 94
I was tired, damnnit all, and cold. Camping is highly overrated in my book. I tossed a few more sticks onto my little fire and felt adrenaline seep out of my bones like oil from an old pickup's cracked head gasket.
Chiquita pressed close and quiet against my leg in dog aplogies, and I forgave her with an aimless skritch behind her ear, not even flinching as I pried a fat tick from her tender parts. "At least SOMEBODY'S eating good," I thought as I flinked it into the coals with a dirty fingernail.
I could smell myself over the beginning of my last coffee starting to boil in the old tin can I'd scrounged and thought about just how fast all the veneers of civilized life can fall by the wayside when you're mainly busy surviving. Dawn breezes mixed dry desert dust with rank human sweat and mangy dog sharing an old sleeping bag. Much longer and Chiquita and I would be skin and bone.
Which made me think. Maybe I could solve two problems at once.
Grabbing Chiquita, I tossed her onto the fire.
Somebody else was going to be eating good tonight. And sleeping better too.
Opening: Maggie Pistel Baker.....Continuation: McKoala