REZ DOGS PAW PRINTS 1
Doggone Slow But Sometimes Steady
Day 1 (Monday): While today’s four-pawed mendicants go about their early morning breakfast rounds searching for compassionate campers who will offer something to eat, one portly pooch is also one of the most popular rez dogs in the canine community. He also forgot to set his internal alarm clock this early morning. Thus, he missed reveille. . .as usual. When it comes to mooching and getting something to eat, like his comrades with tails it’s always a hit or miss venture who gets fed or will go hungry until a kindhearted camper understands the plight of these homeless dogs. Thus, they are entirely dependent on campers who will share food scraps with scores of amiable dogs come-a-begging. But it’s not so much Stumpi de Chelly can afford to be choosy when canvassing campsites and getting fed. Rather, it’s more the case he’s like most children who love sleeping late. So, for this hefty mixed breed of some five years old and weighing sixty-five pounds, he clings to slumber and relishes the reverie of his dreams for as long as possible.
Typically, what Stumpi dreams about is nearly always the same subject matter that circulates inside his thinker, which is the equivalent of a human mind. For rez dogs, however, a think does not imply a subconscious realm similar to consciousness because their powers of reasoning work differently. For this somewhat unkempt mongrel, Stumpi’s fantasy episodes paint a surrogate reality that translates to lucid undertakings of far more gratifying ventures. Namely, his perspective of reality he thinks is better than the hustle and bustle objective world he wakes up and faces every day. For instance, most of the dream scenarios recreate an entirely different situation where everything is perfect, including envisioning himself as a much younger and more vibrant canine. At times, he even sees himself thoroughly relaxed, if not downright lazy and sleeping on a large, comfortable bed with a bowl of crunchy food within reach. Nearby is a bowl of water. On the floor, there’s a large rawhide bone and assorted toys to play with when he decides to get out of bed. Given this scenario, Stumpi is indeed well-cared for and has everything a dog could want in the way of comfort and nutritious food. The only daily routine he enjoys when awake is simply doing whatever he pleases. Even better is how he can chew hard crunchy food because his teeth and gums aren’t painful such as describes the circumstances of his waking life. Apart from these dreamy is Stumpi’s fantasized home has a roof, year-round climate control to appease his comfort level, and he’s adored by his dog care person. In rez dog lingo, DCP. Thus, the indulgent benefactor who shares the home with the so-named house pet.
Speaking of that alternative dreamscape reality, Stumpi’s flickering eyes this morning, along with his quivering body and paddling paws, is a telltale sign he’s starting to wakeup. Actually, he’s beginning to interphase with R.E.M. sleep activity but not quite yet. That’s because Stumpi tends to dream that he’s sleeping or is merely being lazy in his comfortable (imagined) bed. Indeed, here is one thoroughly relaxed dog who is the epitome of conserving energy as much as possible. Given this state of mind and bod, Stumpi expressly maximizes the slogan, Easy does it, which also complements another slogan he favors: Better to wear out than rust out!
The one sure aspect about his somewhat obsessed preoccupation with sleeping and dreaming, especially having a home with all the comforts a dog could ask for, is the fact Stumpi once had a real home and his dreams more or less replicate such a former comfort zone and security. As a matter of fact, that residence was an inviting domicile where he was loved by two DCP’s; that is until he was rudely booted out of the house and bested by a cat (in the vernacular of rez dogs, “hisser”). This other devious and plotting pet-princess who showed up one day out of the proverbial blue eventually took advantage of Stumpi’s good nature by which all else eventually followed (whose dastardly details will be discussed further along in this novel).
Meanwhile, the remains of a dream Stumpi’s presently enjoying and trying to get back into its lulling mental mood is entirely satisfying. Hence, there is no cat and no cantankerous human that one day made an impulsive decision to remove him from the bigger dog house (in a manner of speaking) where Stumpi used to live in peace and harmony and forced to live outside in a much smaller dog domicile sans bed, heat or a/c, and toys.
Suddenly, this very disturbing darker reverie comes to the forefront of his thinker, and, just like that, all the images of the good, bad, and the ugly vanishes. It’s as though Stumpi is in a stupor and seems to be nowhere in time or space. Something is awry, for his paddling paws and quivering eyelids are motionless. Like anything else, all good things dreamt or realized are ephemeral. In Stumpi’s case, the scenario he was enjoying has come to an abrupt end. Now, something or someone reaches inside his head and turns off the mental projector. Snap. Finis. As a result, his home, the comfy bed, food and water, air-conditioning, and everything else he relished in dreamland has dissipated in a nanosecond. Like smoke rising from a chimney, Stumpi cannot reverse the effect.
For a minute or two, Stumpi still resists waking up and his eyelids remain shut. Recumbent, somewhat relaxed, and laying on his side, he waits for the fetching images to return. Ten or so seconds later that fetching scene and replay he seeks are nowhere found inside his befuddled thinker. Even the malevolent cat is missing! A few more seconds pass and then happens. . .one sleepy eyelid opens and is followed by the other eyelid, only partially opened. Now, the bright and blinding yellow light penetrates both folds of skin that protect everything within. The energy of the light probes deeper into his disoriented cerebrum. But resistance is futile because the disturbing activity activates all the senses, rousing Stumpi de Chelly from the tighter grip of lingering drowsiness. Despite this overpowering sensation, he is not ready for the world and reality; at least, not yet. Stretching the front paws as far as they can go, he farts, then squeezes both eyelids tighter, hoping to turn off the light and resist a brusque awakening in progress. But he’s not succeeding given the resolve and attempt. Instead, Stumpi’s groggy thinker is slowly and steadily coming online. Like it or not, fully engaged.
Finally, and for lack of a better way to describe it, somnolence is quit. Although he’s more or less fully awake, he remains dog-tired while experiencing the effects of an enervated physical state of mind and body. As such, he feels like the proverbial slug.
Wakey Wakey indeed, Stumpi de Chelly! Time to get up and face a new day and the routine of that other reality. Starting with a raven’s (Corvus corax) throaty caw, he monitors humans talking in the background. Some of these people also notice a fat dog laying on the ground and partially ensconced beneath well-trimmed bushes. Laughing and making fun of the scruffy dog, none of whom might share something to eat because they’re staying at the Thunderbird Lodge, to go elsewhere and do just that Stumpi will have to walk or limp to the campground. Despite how sore his paws usually feel in the morning, he must reverse the classic Zen saying––To go, but expect nothing! However, in this case, he’s hoping to get some breaky even at this relatively late hour of the morning.
As a relatively long-standing member of the monument’s rez dog community and one of the most likable canines in its collective, Stumpi would prefer being in that other place where he used to live. However, for the time being, both the place and his recent state of mind and longing is gone. Surrendering to the replacement reality as it were, the saying, Sometimes dreams have a way of falling in mid-flight, describes what happened a few minutes ago. Ergo, he’s grappling with a classic philosophical dilemma: Which is more real––the waking or the dream? In truth, Stumpi’s still not sure but thinks it’s the former.
Reclining in the damp grass courtyard of the Thunderbird Lodge, Stumpi’s three primary senses exchange places with one set of rules for another. Consequently, each physical and mental network is activated. Consequently, and swiftly, aches and pains all over his body register one after the other. This is precisely why he wants to go back to sleep but can’t; at least, not at this phase of awakening.
Initially, it’s a pulsating pain in Stumpi’s mouth that bothers him the most. Next, it’s an army of mites and ticks working their usual beat inside both ears, then followed by a searing sensation coming from his waterworks. If he could only reach back that far and do all that licking business other rez dogs do, then he might soon find some relief in that part of his body. Stumpi can’t do that, either. The reason is his neck isn’t long or flexible enough to pivot in that direction. He, therefore, can’t do what should be done and as often as possible because such daily physical maintenance is beyond his ability. When stopping to do his solid waste business from that other plumbing outlet, Stumpi also has difficulty with the so-called downward dog stance (though not meant to mimic a human’s yoga pose). Then again, his balance is not altogether trustworthy or perhaps it’s his weak hind legs explains the wobbly sensation. Indeed, there are scary times when he keels over on his side. When these embarrassing incidents happen, it’s as though a rez dog appeared out of nowhere, extended a leg, then tripped Stumpi for the heck of it. When his rez dog pals see him suddenly flip from a vertical to horizontal profile, they break out in a chorus of howling, though not intended in a cruel sense of mockery. Instead, they’re having a little fun, which Stumpi never seems to mind hearing those lively outbursts. Because the humorous side of life lacks in the rez dog community, the one incontrovertible fact about these Canyon de Chelly canines is how they all need levity and amusement whenever and wherever they can find it.
Presently, for one Stumpi de Chelly in that assembly, if he understands what tsunami waves represent, the analogy would describe the soreness he feels surging over his body one wave after the other. There is also a damp chill at this hour, which acerbates his ailments. Consequently, when he’s upright and walking, his arthritic joints hobble his already hobbled gait. Considering his usual physical pain, even lying still, he conjures an image of wrestling with Mudcake Mickey, a rather large rez dog pal who sometimes thinks scrimmaging (in human terms, “roughhousing”) is good for whatever ails a rez dog. Thus, Stumpi has just explained to himself how and why he feels the way he does this morning.
There is also another side to his usual placid disposition. Despite his infirmities, especially when waking in the morning, the rigors of life reflected throughout the rez dog community make a long day even longer. On the other paw, this common attitude is not befitting the proverb––Misery loves company. Rather, the situation, for Stumpi, centers on sharing quality time with his rez dog pals who, many of them, exhibit some of the same ailments he does. This awareness he has also placed certain aspects of his life in a better perspective. Namely, he realizes some rez dogs have it a lot worse such as the suitably named, Pitiable Pattie. Compared to her usual complaints and dismal attitude, Stumpi considers his health and fitness tolerable. Actually, more than tolerable. Besides, there are a relative few in the community suffering from this, that, or the other ailment solely for the sake of existence and hardly anything more. Privately, such somber and sobering examples remind Stumpi how life and striving are always relative for every rez dog, regardless of any attenuated circumstances that arise. Most assuredly, sometimes it’s the case a rez dog’s existence can always be worse. What every dog in the community must, therefore, cope with on any given day proves as much.
Regarding a welcomed respite of dreams, Stumpi knows there’s always the end of the day to look forward to, as well as periodic dognapping escapades to dreamland. For the moment, his mid-morning or mid-afternoon siestas are relegated to the status of forthcoming. Consequently, and for the second time this morning, like it or not he is forced to deal with a surrogate reality. Soon after this sobering thought and reminder passes, Stumpi recalls something his rez dog pal, Benji-Red, once mentioned. Namely, how some dreams do come true. Since then, Stumpi came up with a more appealing supplement for Benji-Red’s epigram:
If he (Stumpi) can dream of such places (i.e., consummate living conditions in a home with a loving dog care person or persons), then somewhere in time, it must be so.
Moreover, Stumpi bases his conviction on frequently dreamt scenarios, each in the guise of (what he thinks amounts to) prophetic visions. Ergo, one day he will get adopted and given a home and comfortable life, just like he dreams every time he goes to sleep.
Pondering this lingering recollection about adoption in his still befuddled mind, Stumpi adds a parenthetical proviso to Benji-Red’s seeming homily: all that’s needed is for one of our kind to believe such an outcome will eventually come true. In human terms, he’s inducing a vision quest that cannot be wavered from, and, therefore, a dog must always be focused on the outcome until the quest is satisfied. On the other paw, Stumpi, at this moment, needs to believe he has enough energy to get his butt off the lawn, then go for a wee walk to the campground. Once he arrives, the quest for today is to find a camper or possibly two or three who will feed him. In the meantime, and concerning revealing sounds he hears coming from his stomach, he concludes it is time to put his thoughts into action. Thus, stand up and get a move on! If only he could. . .
While this busy-minded discourse is going on in his thinker, Stumpi remains where he is and has been all night. By now (8:20) campers and lodge guests are on the move. Where Stumpi reclines, a steady parade of guests has already had breakfast and stroll around the periphery of a dark-green manicured lawn. Enjoying the cooler morning air while it lasts, they’ll soon be out and about. Accordingly, this part of the monument, like the campground, will mostly be vacated.
Speaking of tourists, a few stop and regard what appears to be a miniature hippo stretched out on the grass whose seeming dogface attached to its bulbous body is indeed a curiosity. Most of the closer onlookers are agog. When a pungent whiff wafting from the anomalous short-legged, inert creature assails their noses, to accurately describe what some of them are thinking, the most fitting adjectives are grubby and gamy. In Stumpi’s defense, however, this half-dozen or so onlookers are probably unaware of the fact all rez dog strays live their entire and relatively short lifetime outdoors. In a manner of speaking, they are no worse for the wear. For more critical observers, however, most of this critical-minded gathering is offended by the reclining dog’s looks and stench. Addressing this typical reaction from tourists, as the impertinent rez dog, DCheney, once mentioned to Stumpi (and here paraphrased): Love us, love our fragrance. And hell’s bells, hoomans, we would all gladly bathe if given a home with free room and board!
Outcasts, like DCheney, are somewhat uncommon in the rez dog community. Then again, the relatively tall, slim mongrel was just that––an outcast. Due to the customary disdain he had for all tourists, as well most of the rez dog community (except Stumpi) he was forced to join, DCheney was abandoned by his owners who, before leaving, imparted words to the effect: Now you be a nice doggie and go and make some new friends. We’ll see you soon again one of these days. As for the critical comments and attitude of tourists mocking Stumpi this morning, he doesn’t have the luxury of a camper’s brush much less enjoying a bath. Noticing how some campers tend to treat their family pets that come to the campground, many of whom also regard the rez dogs with contempt, Stumpi, at least, once had a similar life. Thus, fond, though distant, memories of comfort, joy, and love from, at least, one of the humans who valued Stumpi’s presence in the house.
As for Stumpi’s pungent stench, every rez dog knows the only important thing in life is how the other dog smells. Therefore, the idea of a dog smelling itself is both moot and fatuous because a rez dog already knows its distinctive scent. And that was how another rez dog, Ferdinand, a Chilean Fox Terrier and Basque Shepherd mix, once put it after defending Stumpi’s honor, which, more or less was the reason DCheney, a Bloodhound and Cattle Dog mix, got his butt chewed out for chastising Stumpi for the way he smelled (and was before eventually befriending Stumpi). That short-lived altercation between Ferdinand and DCheney also had something to do with his somewhat pretentious attitude. In time, DCheney learned how to try and get along with the other dogs in their tight-knit community, albeit he never got over the fact his former owners never came back as they more or less promised. (A common and private feeling fostered by many res dogs.)
The minutes slowly pass and the lone rez dog still stretched out on the lawn continues capturing more tourist’s attention but not sympathetic commentary. As an amusing spectacle for this smaller entourage of tourists passing, most of who are making cheeky comments, Stumpi doesn’t know or suspect he’s the center of their attraction. (Actually, the tourists are dismayed or disgusted given what they’re staring at and criticizing.) On the other paw, Stumpi continues his efforts to go back to sleep, thereby procrastinating and not doing what his rumbling tummy sounds are telegraphing to his tastebuds: Get up and get breakfast! Suddenly, those efforts are amplified, but not by his efforts. Rather, it’s the automatic sprinklers that just turned on and Stumpi is prevailed upon to jumpstart his mental circuits, which, in turn, activate voluntary muscle responses.
Rolling over on his side, Stumpi de Chelly struggles to raise his burly body, immediately feeling the ponderous weight on four stiff and shaky legs. When he finds his center of gravity, he hauls ass. The precipitous cold blast of water coming from all directions has indeed provoked an accelerated reaction from the baby hippo or whatever these bemused onlookers assume the reposed species might be. These dozen or so tourists who witness the explosive reaction finally realize the comical-looking creature in the soaked limelight is, in fact, a dog. Moreover, for its size and weight, they are surprised how fast it moves.
Now that’s he’s fully awake there is no other option for Stumpi other than to high-tail it to the campground (if only he had a tail). However, his attempt to do just that isn’t entirely a clean getaway because he’s temporarily confused by unidirectional spurts of water. Consequently, he doesn’t know which direction to take. Nevertheless, the urgency of the exercise demands he do just that––vámonos––and the sooner, the better.
Panic-stricken, Stumpi runs in a circle and gets wetter by the second. To his credit, he smartly changes tactics and makes a beeline for the dry walkway. Once there, the well-soaked rez dog continues a hasty getaway by distancing himself from an outburst of laughter and cheers echoing in the background. Naturally, Stumpi has no clue what he’s hearing, even though it’s apparent he probably is the brunt of impromptu burlesque. (Meaning, what happened turned into tactless entertainment for the tourists.)
When Stumpi is finally clear of the lawn sprinklers and deriding tourists, he stops and catches his breath. Afterward, he commences a vigorous shaking exercise. If he even knew the Latin phrase, Et Tu, Brute! he would also agree with another common phrase: He who laughs last, lasts best. Thus, Stumpi ejects excess water from his coat and some of those still-laughing people are indeed directly in the line of fire! Just desserts aside, the tourists who gathered around Stumpi should have anticipated a wet dog’s reaction to the drenching. Thus, getting out of the way, which didn’t happen.
Now that he’s finally awake, both mentally and physically, there is no way to get back to dreamland. And so, with stiff legs and ‘ole Arthur’s woes felt in every step he takes, Stumpi departs the courtyard, and, this time, at a leisurely pace. Headed toward the campground, his gait mimics a downtempo rumba. Slow-footed Stumpi is, at last, on his way to breakfast, which is one of a few common nicknames his rez dog pals came up with over the years (all in good fun, of course). This particular moniker, however, definitely applies because Stumpi is never in a hurry to get anywhere or at any time. Moreover, this morning’s brief and precipitous exercise have nearly exceeded his day’s energy reserves. He also figures he had his first and last bout with something the humans call sprinklers.
All this excitement to one side (though a bit of entertainment for the tourists), it’s a lovely late spring day at Canyon de Chelly National Monument. As long as a rez dog is still breathing and mooching on this side of the ground, existence is considered a privilege. Moreover, from their pragmatic perspective, existing is not a right given the sense of how some people take their lives for granted. Res dogs never take anything for granted. Period. For these typically optimistic entities, all that needs to happen is being lucky whose applied adjective translates to bumming meals and staying healthy for as long as possible. Hoping for the best is also the optimum attitude for a rez dog to go about its business while all the rest of life’s rigmarole is simply academic. Given this attitude, rez dogs are entirely sensible, existential (that is in their own way), and one might even say they mimic Zen masters, only standing on four legs.
Approaching and now limping into the expansive campground, Stumpi’s water-logged coat drips beads of water. Stopping for another vigorous round of shaking, he knows more than likely he’ll have another tale to share with his rez dog pals, all of whom will enjoy the story. In fact, now that this latest incident is behind him, he has a change of attitude compared to what he thought earlier. Namely, he thinks it was a literal rude awakening given how his day started. Laughing at himself for the confusion, Stumpi doesn’t even suspect the humans were also laughing at his expense.
The cooler shade appeals to Stumpi and he walks toward a nearby canopy of cottonwood trees. In this sector of the campground, lemon-colored rays of sunlight probe a dozen or so campsites, creating a surreal, smoky backdrop. For campers, the monument’s pastoral riparian environs provide a lovely oasis ensconced in desert environs of mixed sandstone formations. The orange tincture of the crossbedded de Chelly crossbedded layer is particularly attractive, which is also the name of the monument because its sedimentary rock formation was first discovered here.
Naturally, Stumpi doesn’t know anything about esthetics or geology, yet some of the campers do. That’s why they come here to admire the primal Mesozoic era geologic formations. Indeed, because this northeast Arizona sector of the Navajo Reservation is so popular, as well as featuring one of the Southwest’s most awe-inspiring canyon backdrops, there is a steady flow of campers that marks the high tourist season and began a few weeks ago. Of course, the tourists are the sole reason most of the rez dogs also reside here year-round. However, in other sectors of the reservation, a stray dog’s best chance of getting fed is to canvass neighborhood housing and hope the people who live and work here will provide something to eat. For all these typically ravenous canines, the harsh facts of life anywhere on the reservation are food scraps, as portions, are relatively small when a dog scores something to eat. Consequently, most are emaciated and bedeviled with a rash of common diseases due to malnourishment. There is also another factor to consider: there are not enough people to feed the dogs, which, in reality, there are too many dogs to feed. Thus, the lifespan of rez dogs measured in years is far less than other dogs who have homes, including those family pets who are owned by people living here.
This morning, however, describing such a reality of a rez dog’s likelihood of getting enough food to sustain its life is not something Stumpi thinks about. What’s on his mind is the campground is the only place he and other moochers can work the street, so to say. Like his comrades, he also has to make the best effort to do what his life depends on and for as long as he remains on this side of the ground. Presently, Stumpi plans to do just that because his tummy is empty, and still complaining. Fortunately, at this late hour, the campground is still buzzing with a modicum of camper activity. Ergo, his chances of finding a camper to feed him are still possible, however marginal. On the other paw, based on the fact it’s the start of a new week there are relatively few campers compared to weekends or the summer when more people are on vacation. Nevertheless, he sees, hears, and smells campers still cooking or eating breakfast and that’s incentive enough to put a little spring in his step, though just a little.
From the monument’s residential housing, the Thunderbird Lodge, and Chinle Wash sectors, what takes most rez dogs a few minutes walking to get to the campground usually takes Stumpi twice as long. On the other paw, he’s never in a hurry to get anywhere. Relaxed, and ideally matched with a cheerful outlook, these are two of Stumpi’s traits other rez dogs admire about this urbane fraternity member. When it comes to mooching, he also has another favorable quality: mellow and always at ease when hanging out with other dogs and campers. Then again, sometimes his charm and introverted mannerisms tend to work against him because he doesn’t get anything to eat. Neither does he change his mooching tactics that might work to said advantage. In this regard, the best summation of Stumpi de Chelly’s character has something to do with this quirk––a plotting demeanor and subtle approach to everything he does. On the other paw, Stumpi is much too subtle. Another way to explain it is how he tends to be meek when showing up at campsites and doing whatever it takes to get fed. For this faux paw (sic), some of Stumpi’s best pals feel obliged to share their handouts with him, especially when they notice he’s the only dog in the campsite who didn’t get anything to eat. Therefore, some of his rez dog pals provide a charitable means to ensure the most insouciant and disarming member in the community remains on this side of the ground and barking; that is if Stumpi even knew how to bark, which, strangely, he doesn’t.
As for his overall appearance, Stumpi tends to be somewhat nondescript in that department. So said and described, his short-haired coat is typically matted. In the direct sunlight, his color scheme nearly matches a taupe brown with a mix of the reddish tincture. Just below, there is an off-white patch that resembles a coat of arms crest. Tapering off near the middle of his broad chest, Stumpi’s pinkish, sagging belly is decorated with black-blue spots comparable to an arrangement of polka dots. Except for a brownish right rear paw, the other three are white and look like well-used tennis shoes. So, in a way, his outward attire and color scheme is similar in appearance to most other rez dogs. Like his peers, Stumpi is a mongrel breed.
This desultory portrayal aside, Stumpi may not be the most handsome rez dog in the community and would be the first to admit this portrayal; that is if aesthetics meant anything to him or any other rez dog. Still, he is not unattractive or homely. That said, he exudes a becalmed attitude that makes up for his undistinguished looks. Then again, his disposition is somewhat stereotypical. Hence, uncommon and genial, which are two other fitting adjectives that summarize Stumpi’s nature. Regardless of the daily hardships he faces such as his nagging aches and pains, this rez dog with an extraordinary, though constrained, dogsona shrugs off the bad and always favors a positive outlook on life. If he could explain it in human terms, Stumpi’s ingenious perspective epitomizes noble qualities in every way.
Presented with this general account of his character, Stumpi de Chelly’s quintessential and unpretentious nature makes him one of the more outstanding dogs in the assembly. As for the others, and all of whom manifest mixed personalities of one sort or another, they are good lads and lasses. Admittedly, some among the assembly can be rowdy, cheeky, or even a bit prankish, but never what some humans might say to their pets, at times: bad doggie!
These insights about the monument’s most offbeat and discreet rez dog denote why Stumpi is held in such high regard by his canine peers. He has even mastered a few favored expressions when visiting campsites and is specifically intended to entice food from a camper’s hands to his salivating mouth. For instance, his sentiment––Looks to die for. Also known as Stumpi’s silly aura, this distinctive adjustment to the facial muscles alters his portraiture to an intended comical and convivial look and is meant to elicit both laughter and praise from a camper. For the most part, Stumpi’s silly aura works. Therefore, if a camper notices him in the background, then he sometimes gets fed.
As previously mentioned, there are times when Stumpi’s sheepish and unobtrusive mannerisms simply go unnoticed. For instance, other than his preference to sit and wait just beyond a campsite entrance, his coy intention is NOT intended to entice a camper’s interest. This quirk and strategy may also have something to do with his disheveled appearance. Indeed, if he knew the meaning of the expression––I clean up real good––Stumpi might have a better chance if he could do just that: clean up (in that other sense)! Although everyday dust and dirt make his coat gritty, including the fact his fur is so matted even a curry comb couldn’t untangle most of the knots, a camper would have to see through humanity’s lens of goodwill to discern Stumpi’s underlying essence. Namely, his dogmanity that makes this rez dog what he is: a good heart and soul who never hurt any living creature, except maybe the occasional flea. Of course, rez dogs eschew such doctrinal dictates (i.e., brotherly love) because they have no egos to obfuscate perspectives about anything. Nevertheless, Stumpi de Chelly exemplifies a noteworthy character while not every rez dog in the community can make the same claim.
On this note, Stumpi is the proverbial horse of a different color, except for the fact his genus, Canis lupus familiaris, is in the guise of a stray living and begging for food on a reservation. Consequently, he’s one of many hundreds of dogs competing for food and attention in all sectors of the sprawling Navajo homeland.
At this rapidly aging morning hour, Stumpi, at last, enters the campground and prepares to make his rounds. With the second shift campers still eating breakfast, he selects a nearby campsite, then squats, waits, and puts on the show. Recalling the startling ordeal when the dry grass suddenly turned wet, he thinks getting something to eat will replenish what that vigorous exercise cost him. Moreover, his paws and joints are still throbbing. From his perspective, even casually walking to the campground was vigorous.
As the situation worked out this morning, nothing, in the way of mooching breakfast, worked out for Stumpi. Since there were too few campers anyway, he surely missed out on a few opportunities to reap the benefits of his looks to die for. The relative other few dogs that did get fed on the second shift either did not see him waiting in the outskirts of the campsite or they were too hungry to share their booty.
And so, Stumpi de Chelly waddles toward the wash and hangs out with some rez dogs pals where they will wait in the shade until campers return for lunch en masse. Even then, the campground will likely be less than half-full. As it turned out, there were no campers eating lunch in their camps today. Regrettably, when they returned later in the day, less than half the rez dog community got any supper, including Stumpi. His day began rather badly and ended somewhat sadly. As Ernest Hemingway titled one of his novels, THE SUN ALSO RISES. Therefore, for their lot, tomorrow is always another day and opportunity to try and entice campers to share some of their food. As an overall attitude of adjustment to any situation, it’s how rez dogs figure things as an overall attitude––they are always that optimistic.
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