RES DOGS SAMPLE

Paw Print 3

THE MOOCHING-FOR-MEALS GIG

(Every Res Dog Has Its Ploys)


Day 2 (Tuesday): At 5:54, a painted sunrise announces a new day of radiance. Highlighted by cirrocumulus clouds, a winsome blend of pastel colors embellish the heavens: purple, pink, green, and red. Although unseen from the depths of the monument, the sphere of orange colored fusion is on the rise. In this part of the American Southwest, cooler ground, and air temperature heats up by the minute. Accordingly, a timely reveille silently serves a reminder for people to awake early and greet the new day. In Navajo, the expression Yá’át’ééh abíní verbally states the sentiment. Getting started before the heavy heat of the day ignites the sky is also prudent, for the desert terrain encircling the hub of Chinle, Arizona will be scorched by mid-morning. For those tourists who are not used to the extreme temperature, dry heat can be exhausting. Even beads of sweat on the skin are rare. Some 4 miles (6.3 km) south of Chinle, the blue-shadowed fissure of sandstone that opens wide in this vicinity will get even hotter as the hours pass.

Long before Canyon de Chelly’s deep abyss revealed moving, discernible shadows, some campers were already awake. From the perspective of res dogs, these visitors personify the early breakfast shift. Other campers who choose to sleep in for another forty winks or so constitute the second shift, whose relatively late risers provide an opportunity for some res dogs that also sleep in another forty or so winks. Meanwhile, nocturnal hunters are ready for a long day’s rest and snooze, starting with bats (Chiroptera), bobcats (Lynx rufus), and badgers (the family, Mustelidae). Coyotes, however, tend to linger, in case an opportunity turns up for a last-minute sack.

As for the canines waiting for the first shift campers to prepare breakfast, these representative members of the res dog community canvass the campground neighborhood, with one purpose in mind: mooching, and each dog determines which campsite is more promising. Some of the more providential dogs among the roving scouts might even score two food handouts on two different shifts. On the other paw, some won’t get anything to eat the first time around but will see how it goes on the second shift. That being said, all the dogs pretty much know the drill: it’s a wait and see proposition as to who among them gets something to eat. Besides, there is nothing more to do other than doing just that: wait and see. If nothing else, res dogs are as unwavering as they are forbearing how things turn out on any given day.

Presented with yesterday’s meager handouts––if a res dog was fortunate to have gotten something to eat––that timeframe is just that––yesterday. Therefore, what’s more important to a res dog is what happens in the present. In this case, their morning rounds now underway. Their attention to what’s under paw at all times is also useful in another sense: they have no concern about what went before or what follows hereafter. Like all other creatures, concentration is one of the advantages have over time-oriented humans. In this light, the res dog community is always on their paws so to say.

And today, at the campground, there are some forty dogs in their collective starting to make their rounds. Dispersed in various sectors, the tactic entails a first come, first served basis––if the dogs choose the right campsite (i.e., if they get fed or go without). Furthermore, when it comes to campsite selection, it’s as though the dogs are walking into numerous fast-food franchises, only the campsites are smaller lots without neon signs. However, sometimes there are too many dogs vying for a camper’s attention in any given campsite, which, of course, only leads to congestion and competition. Therefore, one of two things will happen: either the camper feeds the mob en masse and it’s every dog for himself, or they’ll all get run off (i.e., “Scram. . .go chase your tails or something!”). With that disappointing outcome in mind, and to avoid any congestion, the dogs have already worked out a suitable arrangement among themselves. Namely, six or seven dogs competing for a handout are too many, and three is optimum. For the most part, this guideline holds true. Mooching a meal or a snack is, therefore, a well-practiced regime that gets down to tactics, decorum, even strategy, which the latter will be discussed shortly.

Essentially, mooching at meal time comes down to being in the right place at the right time. Hence, an implied and dubious fact of res dog circumstances where the opportune dog in the assembly gets fed. Getting fed is also a matter of timing because numerous dogs have to be in place throughout the day and at certain times. Namely, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. However, mid-day mooching is least likely to happen because most campers don’t return until later in the day. Timing also comes down to the maxim: The early bird gets the worm. Simply substitute “bird” for “dog,” “worm” for “food,” and “early” for “timely.” Therein is found the methodology detailing a res dog’s à la carte chow-on-demand synopsis.

<<<>>>

While the upbeat moochers are waiting to get fed, imagine their routine throughout the day, and throughout the reservation where they must make a go of it as best they can. Their sole means of survival comes down to food, water, and shelter. Unlike their domesticated dog counterparts, whose owner or owners ensure all the essentials, res dogs must rely on handouts from whoever feeds them, which, here at Canyon de Chelly, is mainly campers. As such, tourists denote a res dog’s meal ticket. Although mooching-for-meals on this national monument is practically year-round, the off-season (November through March) are the least visited months by tourists. It follows how handouts are a scarce commodity. Still, this monument on the Navajo Reservation is one of the most favored tourist destinations in the Southwest. With its spacious campground and tourist amenities, people come from all over the world to see the deepest chasm in this sector of Arizona. For this national monument’s res dog community, they figure visitors come to see them, as well as sharing their variety of camper food. This well-established canine mindset is why the dogs view the campground as a dispensary for meals.

That being said, it follows how this morning’s rambling four-pawed mendicants visiting all the campsites have one thing, and one thing only, on their thinkers: food, glorious food. With their tails wagging and their mouths typically drooling, the dogs are a patient and polite lot utterly dependent on humanity’s best attributes––charity and compassion. Of course, this steadfast diurnal drill meant to satisfy persistent hunger pangs begins early in the morning and lasts late into the evening. With any luck, the dogs will spend the night sleeping and digesting whatever each managed to mooch throughout the day. 

As mentioned, not all the dogs get something to eat because it’s always a matter of percentages about which dogs get fed and those who go without. Later, when the next sunrise marks the start of a new day for campers, just as it does for res dogs, everything that was done the day before, and the day before that, and all the days that constitute a summary life and times of a res dog, the procedure of mooching begins anew. The only thing that changes for the dogs is the seasons, which, for them, are the other seven warmer months, starting in early April. By early November, the onset of late fall and early winter heralds shorter days. The cold and snowy part of the year holds until the return of early spring. Still, the monument is open year-round, and visitors come and go but not nearly as many that visit during the tourist season. 

Apart from the res dog routine where every moment counts, and, therefore, only the present is real and meaningful for their lot, adverse conditions must be faced come what may. Not only inclement weather becomes a problem, but also an array of detrimental diseases that can affect a dog’s heath and nature out of the proverbial blue. Due to their nutritionally lacking diets, all the dogs are, therefore, susceptible to health problems, and not just typical skin disease, including a plague of mites and fleas. Compared to domesticated dogs, res dogs, on average, the lifespan of res dog is about two-thirds less time. It follows how they must savor what they can, and while they can, for as long as possible. Sometimes it’s just downright awful what happens to these dogs, especially when there is nothing to savor. Nevertheless, res dogs don’t complain. That’s because they do not see life through a glass darkly. Neither are they predisposed to a jaundiced outlook on life. Instead, they are self-reliant and do whatever needs to be done to remain that way. One can even say they are practical-minded, only because they have no other choice.

The other defining characteristic of res dogs is that none are hostile and rarely temperamental. Accordingly, there are no mean-spirited dogs in their community. Instead, most are well-balanced, gregarious, and eager to please every human the dogs encounter. Often considered as the most congenial creatures on the planet, such earned respect by campers is, even more, admirable considering how res dogs must cope with the previously mentioned living conditions, which sometimes can be combative. This is part of the reason they are invariably upbeat, they manifest good cheer and fortitude, and are exemplary in every way. Presented with this common observation, the res dog community is so well-behaved that some visitors wonder how these strays ended up unceremoniously abandoned by their owners.

From this brief portrayal, it’s obvious how life is stiffly competitive and chancy for res dogs. For instance, the ability to snatch something to eat when campers feed a group of dogs, and all at the same time. As such, it can be quite a feeding frenzy, and each dog knows it must act for itself. Thus, gaining a competitive edge over the others, yet without being overly competitive. There is a fine line between wanton aggression during mooching sessions and not being piggish, cheeky, and truculent. Rather, it’s more the case whichever dog grabs the food first gets the food, and the others will get theirs if they, too, are fast enough to do likewise. That being, survival on the res for the dogs comes down to a finer point of being there––in the moment, and at the right time and place. There is also a res dog caveat that states the salient point: Life is neither fair nor unfair. In other words, reality, for them, is what it is: sometimes hard and often less so.

In the final analysis, the routine of life is how every dog must fend for itself, but also act in concert with the greater community. Mentioning this point also suggests a transparent contradiction, for how does a dog think and act for itself, then do the same for the community it belongs to? In fact, explaining this general rule would be a waste of words and time because actions, for them, always speak louder. It follows how a dog or group of dogs that show up at a camper’s site must act accordingly in the spirited competition, then sees how that determining factor works out for these moochers––the luck of the draw. Consequently, the dogs need to act quickly when food scraps are divvied out, even though not all the dogs in the assembly are on equal par (i.e., some are just faster and more adept than others––or clever). Hence, the reason food-feeding frenzies see some of the dogs getting fed while others miss out on such opportunities. For those that missed out, they move on to another campsite, and if others are already there, the newcomers stand in line and hope for the best. Indeed, what other choice is there?

Another way to restate the above thesis comes down to this everyday scenario: when campers share food with a group of dogs visiting a campsite, the opportune dog or dogs that get there first are momentarily busy eating. Consequently, this narrow window of time and opportunity allows for a contingent opening for another dog or two to rush in and do likewise. Naturally, this general explanation is more complicated than what it already is. The scene just described is also based on precise timing all res dogs are aware of at some instinctual level. As previously intimated, most of the dogs get along famously, and it follows there is an established res dog compact of propriety in play when campsite food scraps are shared by campers. This res dog Q.E.D. dictum also states an accepted proposition by all res dogs that was also mentioned earlier, but now stated in unequivocal terms: when mooching, fair competition is implied while blatant boldness is frowned upon. Therefore, res dogs should avoid enacting the human expression––It’s a dog eat dog world. Moreover, such behavior is anathema to the established etiquette for all res dogs. Accordingly, woe to the deviant and recalcitrant pooch in the fold that inadvertently (or purposely) nips the hand that served the food! This cardinal res dog rule is dubbed the most inviolable. When broken, it is not tolerated by campers or Navajos. More to the point, one strike and the res dog is out! There is no do-overs or mea culpae to plead one’s case!

The good news is that this rule is seldom broken. Besides, all res dogs form a consensual clique with an understanding how things work on the reservation, and where each dog must fit into the greater or lesser scheme of things. Or else. In this light, there likely is an imperceptible genetic code in a res dog’s nature that makes most of these dogs mellow. In fact, by their nature, and specifically identifying a common trait, res dogs tend to exemplify a remarkable congeniality when around people. Foremost in importance is the art of mooching because it requires creativity to get something to eat. Of course, the supply and demand factor for getting fed always defines a balance of the equation. The pivotal question, therefore, comes down to this point: Is there enough food to go around for all the dogs? Unequivocally, the answer is “NO!” The reason has to do with the quality of typical camper food. Regardless the nutrition-poor diets the dogs typically contend with, they seldom go without the benefit of a decent meal. Instead, they are indulgent and accept whatever is handed out by anyone kind enough to offer food. Moreover, the dogs are not hunters (i.e., chasing rabbits and such); at least, most of them do not manifest such instincts based on the ingrained habit and dependency on campers who provide food. Considering the majority of packaged or canned food shared by campers––or in rare cases donated by some residents and workers on the reservation––it comes down to another adage favored by res dogs: Take it or leave it! For res dogs, that outcome is obvious and not moot because they will eat almost anything placed before them.

The germane point about campers sharing food with the res dogs is akin to the Biblical saying, manna from heaven, though, in this case, meant strictly in a temporal sense. It stands to reason the trick to getting something to eat is dependent on every res dog’s strategy. Namely, developing a ploy when scraps are dispersed. It follows how the quick and more cunning dogs are likely to score. Once the food is available, it’s matter of which dog gets there first, and how fast it gobbles up the morsels. 

To reiterate this intrinsic aspect of res dog decorum, there is a tacit agreement among all the dogs that each must do whatever it takes to satisfy its hunger pangs. Besides, doing whatever it takes implies essential tactics such as drooling, appearing pathetic and starving, wagging a tail (for those who have tails), and for the extremely desperate pooches, prolonged whimpering until (and if) the dog is fed. Whatever it takes to attract a camper’s attention, just do it! In the eyes and stomachs of these dogs, getting fed requires a reliance on skill, as well as a camper’s compassion. If the dogs knew how to write and hold up signs, that notice would state what all the dogs expect when visiting campsites: Kindly share your grub, campers! Of course, the same applies to the People when they’re in the mood or spirit to feed a res dog.

<<<>>>

Mooching food! That’s what res dogs do best, and the verb implies action, which, in term implies a generic sense and specifically how to go about it. Given this statement, every res dog has its modus operandi worked out; that is apart from sitting, begging, and fetching at a campsite. For instance, the prodigal benefactor might put the offering on the ground, which, of course, implies a first come, first served basis for spirited competition. In other words, a free-for-all means that’s sort of like ringing an alarm at the starting gate of a horse race, only its canines that sprint to the finish line (i.e., wherever the food lands or is placed). 

Presented with the fact whatever scraps a camper dispenses, the procedure for the dogs not only comes down to who, among them, is faster, but also a matter of acute timing. It’s also possible a dog can engender an advantage over the others in the assembly, merely by employing enticing mannerisms (read, “tricks to please”). For instance, a res dog’s ability to raise one paw, then hold it steady about nose-high. For the more balanced res dogs, using two paws while sitting on the rump works even better, and then maintaining the pose for a prolonged period. Another trick meant to please campers could be construed as a bit too much showmanship: step out in front of the other dogs assembled at the campsite and then smartly roll over one complete revolution. Ta-daaaaa! This ostentatious performance is followed by an abrupt return-to-standing posture, followed by a wait and see reaction from the camper. And so, another Ta-daaaaaa for the performer. Some dogs even commence a so-called let it all hang out presentation. Hence, a rapid rolling motion from one side to other, with its front paws simultaneously jabbing outward, then repeating such gymnastics for as long as necessary.

Stunts, like these, naturally tend to curry favor with most campers. Ergo, the trickster is often rewarded with a treat or added portion. 

Conventionally speaking, there are stunts, strategies, and surreptitious schemes that are meant to entice a camper to share his or her food. On the other paw, there’s Stumpi’s self-effacement tendency and peculiarities that mostly goes unseen by the camper. Still, he admits his easygoing mannerism combined with exceptional patience keeps him from stressing over anything. Besides, if he doesn’t get something to eat at this or that campsite, he’ll mosey around the campground until he does; that is if he gets something to eat on his daily rounds. If he can’t find a camper who will feed him, then there’s always tomorrow. To be sure, Stumpi is not only the rarer non-competitive res dog in the fold but also sanguine and stoical. His equipoise in all things and all ways is also legendary in the community.

For all res dogs, what they do so well gets down to inveigling a handout, and the more food each gets, the better. On this note, how they manage their lives may seem to an outsider the dogs get what they’re hoping for and counting on for their survival. In fact, this observation is inaccurate in many ways. Because there are always too many res dogs to feed at any given time, getting something to eat is contingent on a factor of percentages. Therefore, the ratio of campers to dogs is the determinate factor in the quest for food. Another contingency centers on the disposition of a camper. Notably, some folks just don’t want to feed the dogs. Consequently, and for a variety or reasons, this inconsiderate attitude is supported by another classic myth. Namely, some campers figure once a dog is fed the next thing it expects is a home. Naturally, such a hopeful outcome is on the minds of all res dogs. Still, ninety-nine percent of the time a camper leaves without taking a stray home. The cold hard facts of life also demonstrate how not every camper feels obliged to feed the dogs, even if they’re tempted to do so. Some campers even think or assume another camper will pick up the slack, so why bother to share one’s leftovers with the dogs? 

Nevertheless, the dogs don’t make any judgments one way or the other. They merely drop by a campsite on the assumption a camper will share their food with them. If the dogs get fed, fine; if not, they’ll eventually go elsewhere (or are run off and forced to go elsewhere). Herein another quandary is revealed, even though mitigated by the fact the res dogs are indeed being fed.

Today, for instance, one out of every four campsites in the campground is occupied (i.e., an average spring weekday census). Some are just getting started making breakfast and a relative few are preparing to depart. Most of the community dogs have been in place since around sunrise and are still waiting for a handout. Oddly, Stumpi is among the group––oddly because he tends to sleep in most of the time and misses the camper’s reveille. Today, however, his hunger pangs overruled his preference for sleeping late. Since he arrived soon after the other dogs were already in place, he’s hopeful he’ll get something to eat, just like the four other dogs who are waiting ahead of him, in the front, and where the action is (or hopefully will be the case). Situating himself outside one of the larger group campsites, Stumpi slouches, and waits and has faith in a common res dog motto: Where there are lots of campers gathered the chances are better to get something to eat. In this case, there is a family of seven about to eat breakfast. 

This early-morning assembly and scenario also beg the question, What are the typical kinds of food fed to res dogs? That list of items comes down to food preferences most campers prefer eating while on vacation. For example, the following items: 

Hot dogs, hamburgers, chicken, fish, sausage (or bratwurst); and sometimes higher-grade meats such as steak, ham or roast beef, and chili. Camp food munchies include chips, pretzels, doughnuts, plain or otherwise (especially ‘otherwise’). Soft food delectables denote a variety of pastries, including Twinkies; hard rolls, bagels, regular bread, and cornbread. Veggies and similar side dish favorites are coleslaw, deviled eggs, pickles, tossed salads, baked beans, potato salad, and a variety of fruit and nuts. Some breakfast preferences include Nutri-Grain and power bars; oatmeal, a variety of cereals (hot or cold), pancakes and waffles. For dessert items, ice cream, sherbet, and a variety of cakes and pies top the list. 


From the Navajo, camper food items are augmented by these traditional Native American food favorites:

fry bread, tacos, burritos, enchiladas, mutton stew, hamburgers, rabbits, deer, prairie dogs (all cooked, of course), pork, French fries, squash, beans, corn and mashed potatoes. 


Accordingly, these lists of typical menu selections come down to a simple fact of life: whatever campers (or the People) eat, res dogs end up getting the same, even though the most expensive meat varieties are typically not shared (for obvious reasons).

Without a doubt, some of these standard food selections are enhanced by different seasonings and some that are plain Jane preparations. The common denominator in most of these items is heavy on starch, fat, cholesterol, and carbohydrates. For this reason, the selections may be appetizing and appealing to a camper’s taste buds, yet lacking protein and other essential nutrients. As alluded to earlier, most camper food selections are not supplemented with nutritional elements from any of the essential food groups. Rather, the relatively limited menu choices typify a correlation between junk food items, and, therefore, are anathema to a wholesome diet. Naturally, if such food selections are eaten to excess, and relegated to a steady diet, consumption for res dogs tend to play havoc with their digestive tracts. On the other paw, the moochers are not discriminatory when it comes to what goes in their mouths, let alone their stomachs. It also goes without saying whatever satisfies their craving is graciously appreciated.

<<<>>>

The next aspect of mooching for a meal or a snack starts with an exacting question: How to acquire it? Touched upon earlier, here is where this matter tends to get dicey for some of the res dogs and warrants an explication. Fundamentally, when mooching food from campers, the res dog methodology is sound. If the number of dogs per site is minimal, say, three or four dogs (though one or two is better), and if the campers are amendable to feeding the dogs, chances are each dog will get something to eat. However, when five, six or seven dogs stake out a site, the odds of each dog getting something to eat are unpredictable. Even a minimal number of dogs can sometimes warrant a strikeout. 

With these facts in mind, what does a small or larger group of res dogs do to curry the favor of a camper and get fed? First, they have one of three choices: either wait and see whether the camper will extend the proverbial milk of kindness, by providing a handout. Second, compete with other dogs in a campsite group stakeout; that is if food is provided for one and all (and for whoever is fastest gets to eat). Third, do something unusual that attracts attention to the dog performing this or that stratagem, then enjoy the bounty. (Thus, the previously mentioned tricks some res dog employ to entice a camper’s attention.) Any of these options often merits success. However, those dogs who solely rely on beg-fest shenanigans need to get out in front of the crowd, then work the stage as it were.

And then there are some res dogs who do things quite another way. Namely, acquiring an advantage over the others by counting on the dog’s appearance (i.e., a clean and somewhat groomed coat). Thus, a sort of vainglorious means to solicit a camper’s favor over others in the assembly. Another advantage is whining or emitting a monosyllabic high-pitched bark at just the right time. Such looks and applied operatic vocal effects can, to quote the adage, easily melt a human’s heart. (Of course, the pleading look of a res dog is another advantage, which Stumpi relies solely on this advantage. Then again, he certainly can’t compete with dogs that have clean and groomed coats.)

All these strategies work for different res dogs in different ways. Each tactic is also contingent not only on timing but one other critical factor: the smell and appearance of its pelage. On this indelicate subject, the scruffier and smellier dogs are usually given a wide berth, which, of course, includes Stumpi. On the other paw, a res dog can’t help what its pelage looks or smells like. Moreover, groomed res dogs with no pungent odor naturally bears more favor with campers, and, therefore, these dogs get fed. Surprisingly, when it comes to handouts by the People, the sight or smell of a res dog doesn’t matter, just as long as it doesn’t hang around too long.

But here a caveat must be mentioned, which relates to why some res dogs may get what they came for while others are totally ignored. Apart from the scruffier and smellier dogs, if a dog is plagued with a battalion of mites and fleas, it’s very likely campers will keep their distance. At best, the camper may toss something to the dog, which means pitching food further away from the campsite. The same goes for dogs afflicted with open sores, runny eyes (i.e., conjunctivitis) or having halitosis so bad a camper can detect the stench from a distance. Although some campers may feel empathy for dogs suffering from a host of infinities, compassion, like tolerance, is sometimes more theoretical than practiced. Naturally, what essentially matters for dogs getting something to eat, and why they are fed, factors into which dog might also get adopted. Hence, favoritism and benevolence. More about this point is explained further along.

These points just mentioned brings to mind a story about one of Stumpi’s closer friends, Jumper. Conceivably, he was the most acrobatic of all res dogs within the community, and his performances were a thrill to see. Even his peers enjoyed Jumper’s antics meant to attract a human audience. Part Airedale Terrier and Border Terrier, the famed show dog in the community did indeed earn his epithet, for he could spring and jump straight into the air some six feet. Not only was Jumper an impressive acrobat on four paws, but he had one of the neatest tricks to snare a camper’s attention, then get what he came for: food. First, he initiated a studied sitting position, perfectly motionless and meant to catch a camper’s attention. When this phase of the performance was assured, he abruptly sprang skyward, then flipped head-over-paws. Jumper’s relatively short legs were also spaced for a perfect four-paw landing. To his credit, he never botched the precise timing and choreography required for this talented act. To see Jumper in action was comparable to a gymnastic competition for one! 

(Parenthetically, Stumpi once asked where Jumper learned how to do that particular trick, and was told, It just came to me. He was also perplexed hearing Jumper’s modest explanation because he (Stumpi) never got so much as an inch or two off the ground; not even when something suddenly spooked him. As it all turned out for Jumper, one day a camper was so charmed by the talented dog’s performance he was invited to go home with that family. Stumpi witnessed that happy scene and thanked Jumper for letting him finish the food he had left behind.)

Apart from Jumper’s success and talents, which always netted a bonus handout (i.e., the choicest meats and such), there are a couple of other dogs in the community that more or less spring skyward, then flip and rotate relatively high in the air. However, their performance is not what one might call graceful airborne ballet. There are even some dogs who can repeat the stunt two or three times in a row, thereby securing a camper’s attention. Other dogs, like Rascal, a part Pug, and French Bulldog breed, came up with his variation of the feat and took the proverbial cake when performed a deliberate miscalculation upon landing, and immediately followed by a fake limp. In other words, a noble attempt, yet with an intentional bad landing. After those pratfall incidents, the camper rushed toward the dog to see if it might have been injured. Upon discovering it was not hurt, there was an ensuing and anticipated payoff for the daring attempt: a tasty (i.e., res dog lingo for an exceptional treat).

Actually, it didn’t hurt Rascal’s chances when he sometimes added one other feature to the act: licking and pulling at his rear or front leg. Following this heart-rendering feature to his act was the camper’s immediate response, which amounted to an outburst of condolence, then fawning over the seeming injured dog. As expected (by Rascal), the camper doled out ample food scraps that mollified the dog’s spirits. Therefore, a rewarding finale for his performance (at least, for that campsite). 

Describing representative res dog routines relegated to mooching food from campers, including performing daring tricks and tomfoolery some dogs employ (merely to get an edge over the others), one might assume the dogs can count on something to eat wherever such shenanigans occurs. Well, not always. Some camper spectators just don’t get the point. Still, during the high tourist season chances are better for mooching, with or without the tricksters. However minimal the portions, any amount of food, including any particular food item, is better than having nothing to eat. On the other paw, the earlier point about some visitors to the monument who assume all the dogs are getting their fair share of handouts is most assuredly farfetched. 

Consider, for example, how there are occasional ill-tempered campers who defy any res dog to enter their campsite. These crotchety tourists won’t tolerate the presence of any dog mooching for a meal, even if it’s emaciated or showing visible signs of disease and ailments. Fortunately for the dogs, miserly and mean campers are the exception to the rule. Besides, most people consider dogs are man’s best friends. Even if some of the dogs are unsightly or smelly, they are still treated with relative dignity because they are dogs. 

That said, even during the high tourist season, there are times when camper handouts are sometimes sparse. The rationale for this could be fewer campers that are visiting the monument, or the spirit of adequate donations is not what it should or could be. As such times, some of the dogs resort to raiding campground receptacles for food waste. Therefore, a desperate means for the more desperate res dogs. Even if leftovers end up in the garbage, as long as the food scraps are fresh or relatively fresh it’s considered non-garbage. Hence, safe for the dogs to eat. By comparison, some leftovers that are tossed in the garbage can get smelly and wet, including the natural chemistry caused by rotting. This type of food is most assuredly garbage, and often not safe to eat.

(Generous campers sharing their leftovers with the dogs, including the spoilage that sometimes happens, is always appreciated, but also has its downside. With spoiled food, there is a tendency of food poisoning, and like humans, dogs are also susceptible to contaminated food caused by bacteria, viruses, parasites, or toxins. For instance, ptomaine poisoning, or something like it. Naturally, the dogs would prefer keeping food inside their stomach lining rather than projectile vomiting. For many days to follow, suffering the ill-effects of feebleness and lethargy is a dire and direct consequence. Such camper-contracted ailments are only the tip of the proverbial iceberg that res dogs have to deal with on any given day.)

Another question on this topic also has a bearing why res dogs sometimes don’t get fed: What likely can ruin the chances they might not get fed? One turn-off (for campers) is a dog washing (licking) itself in select private areas of its body. Doing so tends to offend some camper’s sensitivities, and in some isolated cases, offending a camper’s principles. Another turnoff has to do with mange. If it’s a particularly serious case (read, “ultra-gamy”), some campers tend to get standoffish until the affected dog goes away, and the faster it exits the campsite, the better. One of the worst offenses, however, is a gesture that’s graphically referred to as smear-on-the-grass butt residue. This apt description also goes without saying why most campers get incensed when observing dogs executing this stunt.

All told, these described mannerisms and bad habits are a sure way to hear a camper’s vocal protest. If the common phrase, shoo-shoo! doesn’t scare the offender off, a camper might stomp his feet and perhaps chase after the dog with a broom or part of a tree branch. Of course, the dog is not so much put off by such a reaction though likely it is curious what set the camper off in the first place. This reaction is especially the case where a dog thinks or feels whatever it’s doing to itself, including ridding the south end of the excess matter, is natural.

<<<>>>

Presented with these guidelines to res dog mooching, are there other ways res dogs can bum a meal? As it turns out, there is! It’s an audacious and coordinated stunt known as table snatching. However, this artful dodge only works for the more daring dogs who are fast on their paws, and mentally fast to pull off the stunt. The executed maneuver goes like this. . .

While a camper prepares the meal, and maybe another sets the table, a res dog slips into the campsite unseen, then waits under the table. (Manifestly, the key to pulling off the caper entails the dog is not noticed by anyone occupying the campsite. Accordingly, it is well-practiced in the art of stealth.) At this phase of the operation, the setup requires utmost patience since the dog already knows there is some food on top of the table. However, it also knows a prized food selection is missing. To execute the well-timed plan, it must, therefore, act in a split-second, and at the right time; otherwise the mission will fail.

In some cases, the uninvited guest has an obliging confederate staked out near the perimeter of the campsite. This dog’s purpose is to act as a sentry and communicate with his confederate pal. Often, cryptic, curt, and high-pitched yips informs the table-snatcher what the campers are doing at all times, particularly their respective locations. Most campers tend to ignore commonly heard sounds around the campground and the two dogs, therefore, go unnoticed.

As for the accomplice waiting under the table, this trickster is as quiet as a moonrise, and must act on instincts if its plan of action is going to work. For instance, relying on a keen sense of smell when the main entree is on the table. Once the scent is captured, the dog pauses until the camper’s attention is temporarily focused elsewhere or on something else. This phase of the plan requires uncanny perceptional awareness to ensure every contingency will work out accordingly. Finally, when that split-second opportunity happens, the dog ostensibly appears out of nowhere, boldly lunges and targets what was placed on the table, snatches the desired food item, and is gone in a flash.

Naturally, hot-off-the-grill or out-of-the-skillet meat items are the objective of the table snatching escapade. Even the size or shape of the desirable meat doesn’t matter to the speedy snatcher––a steak cutlet or T-bone, chicken breast, thigh or leg, hamburger Pattie, hot dog or bratwurst. Any kind of meat is considered prized food-booty. However, the dog is still not home free unless it can haul ass expeditiously, and get as far away as it can from the camper who might also be in hot pursuit. Only then can the dog and its accomplice claim and gobble the pilfered food item. This coup also means practically inhaling whatever was swiped from the camper’s table. After the treat is finished, the dogs are smart enough to know it’s not safe to go back to the campsite that was just raided. 

There are also exceptions to this dog sense stipulation. For instance, if the camper did not witness the outright theft that took place, then the culprits are safe to return and have the nerve to beg for more food. Another instance is where a camper or campers are elderly, meaning a tad slow of thought or bodily movement, though, nonetheless, compassionate and willing to accept what happened. And so, the dogs are guaranteed a warm welcome upon their return.

<<<>>>

Life on the reservation is most assuredly a daily and seasonal routine amounting to a somewhat predictive rehearsal. Sometimes interesting things happen in the res dog community, and sometimes getting through the day is nothing less than ennui. What has already been explained about their lives and conventional habits centers, of course, on handouts and getting enough to sustain their tenuous lives. To use a simile, satisfying a res dog’s daily hunger pangs is like trying to fill a bottomless pit. Most exhibit borderline signs of malnutrition and some are afflicted with diseases that will not go away unless proper veterinary care is administered (and likely that’s never going to happen). 

For res dogs, living in a popular tourist locale like Canyon de Chelly is also a bonus; at least, in some sense, this statement proves true. For instance, there is a greater turnaround of campers, lodge guests, and day visitors coming and going throughout most of the year. With this point in mind, res dogs don’t tend to wear out their welcome. (For the most part, this statement is true.) Once campers depart the campground, it’s a matter of time before other campers show up and occupy vacant sites. Those who own a variety of large and small RVs, also tend to have more food to spare compared to those who sleep in tents. Then again, res dogs have seen this general rule go the other way. Thus, miserly campers in big rigs compared to generous campers sleeping in what looks like a makeshift round or elongate doghouse; that is from a res dog’s perspective.

All that to one side, if there are no campers around, especially during the day, there is one last option for dogs who didn’t get anything to eat. Namely, the previously mentioned means of raiding trash and garbage cans. If the lids are not properly secured, sometimes a couple or few res dogs work together, knock the cans or bins over, then plunder a variety of leftovers. And what fun it is for the dogs to shred wrappers and paper and see how far into a can or jar their busy, probing tongues can reach. Of course, it has been known how, in a literal sense, a dog sometimes gets too attached to the can or jar. Hence, their snouts are stuck until some concerned human comes along and reaches down and removes the potential death trap.

Perhaps the underlying point of the res dog mooching regime is the fact they are opportunistic, and often creative. In this sense, they are survivors. Most also have strong wills and meet most challenges. The only exception to this optimistic declaration is a wounded or diseased dog that tends to die off more quickly than its peers. Even then, res dogs, compared to domestic dogs, are relegated to a much shorter lifespan. So, in a way, they may instinctively sense every moment counts, and, therefore, make the most of their lives while they can.

(end chapter and there's about 25 more chapter that continues this doggie saga)