26 March 2006

Smuggler's Way

Today instead of watching cows dangling mid-air, the Hammer and I visited a place I have taken all my dogs. It is my favourite place in the whole world that does not serve beer. I have been visiting there since I was just a young stubby.

We had barely begun our hike when two dogs from a neighbouring property ambushed us from a hill. The two big dogs did their best to show the two of us they meant business, growling and gnashing their teeth like Todd Bertuzzi, but we ignored them and they went back to their sleepy day in the sun watching over their owner's horses and cows.

The creeks which we crossed here and there ran slow as a three legged dog. It has not rained much, nor has it warmed up enough to begin the run off of spring. Today we saw no sign of large animals - I once spotted a big blob of bear shit steaming like tea on a morning cool as today's - we were grateful for that. Some people hike to see bush critters. Not me. Sitting by the water watching my dog drink a bumble bee skimmed my hair before landing in the rocks. The Hammer shook herself, spattering an area dozens of yards across with the coolness of the deep creek. The bee fucked off in a hurry. That is the sort of wild life display that suits me.

Our path was a decades old path for contraband smuggling into the fixed election capitol of the western world. Where we paused to rest before turning back is mere yards from the border. There are probably hidden sensors, perhaps even secret agents hiding in the moss hoping for a someone trying to penetrate the frontier with a hockey bag packed with the good stuff. Two RCMP cruisers were leaving the area as we entered. It was too bright and they were moving too fast for me to see if they were taking anyone back to the station.

This was my Hammer's first go on a hiking trail where the footing can be difficult. I have already seen she sticks to the path where ever we wander until the return trip when she likes to do a little canine 4x4ing. She was a little sick from all the horse shit she ate on the dyke the other day so I was glad horses have not been up the trail recently.

When we left two snoops were approaching my car to check on it for the government or somebody. They turned around when they saw us approaching. When we drove by them I gave them a quick once over. There are informants for the government and the smugglers all around the borderlands. Hard to say which side they were on really.

Tonight the Hammer has been sleeping at my feet while Sonja and I watched the Truman Capote movie. It is real good except for the killing parts. And speaking of killing, the Hammer has been farting like her dog food is made of soylent green.

Tomorrow I like a longshot in the grass stakes at Santa Anita. That is the only grass I care for these days.

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