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.
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.
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