Trip Trauma and Trip Karma

Once I begin thinking of all the Trip stories it's hard to let them go without recounting another one.

Like how Trip became traumatized to loud and sudden noises and will forever be frightened of thunderstorms. When Trip was a very young dog, probably less than one year, he and Angie lived in a house on the edge of a lake about 30 feet below a steep and shear cliff. One summer afternoon a very young girl whose parents lived in a house on the cliffs edge above where Angie's house was located was playing and exploring. Soon she was behind the steering wheel of an old abandoned truck near the cliffs edge, and as she was imagining driving this old truck she managed to mash the clutch in and allowed the truck to roll uncontrollably over the edge of the cliff. The truck came crashing down the thirty foot cliff and landed upside down on its top near Angie's house and Trip's outdoor enclosure (please note the PC "enclosure", rather than the tacky word "pen", as I am working through my negative Trip Karma). Thankfully, the young girl recovered from her scrapes and bruises without any serious consequences. But Trip was not so lucky. He is traumatized to this day by that sudden crash and noise and is unable to keep from cowering in a corner everytime a thunderstorm rolls through the area.

But now to the Karma.

I had always thought that since I was building fence on the ranch when I was diagnosed with Testicular Cancer that fence building was a cause of cancer (not very scientific or logical I know, but it's one of the ways I deal with the randomness of it). And I had never made any connection between Trip's "surgery" and mine until I watched a few episodes of Earle on television. And then, there it was, clear as a cold winter night. I remembered recommending to Angie that she should consider having Trip "fixed" in order to mellow out his temperment and curb his enthusiasm. Of course, it wasn't the fence building that caused the cancer that led to the surgery, it was Trip Karma. So, now I'm on a quest to make it up to Trip somehow, to get the karma right. An implant maybe? They do that now you know. One thing I can do though, stop calling him by that Spanish nickname I gave him - "no mas dos"...even though in fun they still call me "uno". That's got to be good karma.

I Sent Trip To Boot Camp

Boot camp is a place. When I first heard the word boot camp it was a term that got its meaning from the war years. It described the anvil where the military took green young boys and forged them into fighting men. A noble process of passage into manhood. But like many words it has morphed and serves us with a variety of other meanings. Today it can mean a resort where people go to solve a weight problem. Or, a juvenile detention facility where society hopes to accomplish a redemptive process for troubled young men and women.

And so, I thought I would send Trip to boot camp. You may think it a stretch, but it seemed a good fit for Trip and for me. He was at that critical stage in life where he had not yet shed that puppy adolescence and had all that bottled up enthusiasm for life in a gangley and powerful one-hundred-pound frame. Lovable yes, manageable no. And since Angie had left him in my care I thought the timing was perfect and my purpose noble. Of course, finding suitable boot camp facilities in the Quanah area required some imagination. Eventually I settled on the idea that Trip would make a good farm dog and I soon found a local farmer-rancher who needed a watchdog at his remote and uninhabited farmhouse. So Trip was off to boot camp. This has got to be one of my greatest feats of "win-win" solution making. Or so I thought. Almost immediately phone reports were pouring in of a large black dog ranging across the western areas of Hardeman County. Miles apart and away from his new farm home and guard dog duties. And soon reports were coming back to me that Trip was a tireless pursuer of porcupines and skunks and who knows what else. The skunks were a lesson learned quickly; however, as strange as it seems, Trip found the porcupines irresistible. Trip would be found pawing his face which was swollen twice its normal size from the embedded quills, whimpering at his self-inflicted wounds. Not just once, not just twice, but at least three times Trip had to be taken to the vet by his new guardian to have the wounds treated. And so it was that three times turned out to be the charm as they say for Trip. His new guardian declared that Boot Camp was not the right place for Trip. He was just too enthusiastic and energetic to be a companion for the young grandchildren he explained and the farm was just too much freedom for Trip's own good. So Trip returned home to my back porch. His spirit was undiminished and physically he was thin and lank and scarred and muscled; with a toothy smile that said he had graduated from Boot Camp and that I better not think of asking him to go anywhere other than the back porch...or home with Angie. And so that is how this episode ended. Of course, Trip is more wary now of who I introduce him to and he gets very nervous and agitated when Angie leaves him alone with me. But, with the same bent he had in chasing porcupines, he keeps coming around with tail wagging and eyes that say all he wants is a friendly pat on the head and that all is forgiven. The same I expect of many that get home after Boot Camp.

I Haven't Cried Over A Dog Since Seeing The Movie Old Yeller...

but, I'll shed plenty of tears when "Trip" is no longer looking towards the door to see Angie come to greet him. I had not thought much in that regard until I arrived home ahead of Vickie and Angie following our Thanksgiving travel and saw Trip standing at the lattice porch. His muscles taunt with anticipation and his eyes full of anxiety about why it was only Old Bill and not Angie that climbed out of the truck; and then he let out a whimper that made me feel it was absolutely necessary to explain to him that she was coming too and it would only be a little while yet. It was then I began to think about the deep affection I felt for this dog and how sorry I felt that I might have ever said a cross word to him or about him. It was then I realized that I loved Trip and why; that I loved him because he loved Angie and was simply never content unless she was where he could get up and come over to where he could get Angie's attention while looking for some approving word or gesture. I'm going to appreciate Trip more from now on and I'm going to treat him more kindly instead of that frequent cursory growl about staying off of me and not getting his nose against my pants. I'm going to appreciate him all the more now that I understand he's family.