I think it’s time to give you some background information on our dogs, just in case you don’t know them personally. They are, after all, our children.

Watchdogging

His new favorite spot to hang.

Dirty dog

The youngest Hendrychs family member is a Chihuahua-dachshund mix (or chiweenie) named Homer, after the poet. He’s five years old, and we got him from a shelter in Union Grove, WI. We refer to him as our cat, since he has many cat-like habits: perching on tables and counters, basking in the sunshine, batting things out of his way. He loves his creature comforts and burrows his way under every single blanket and sweatshirt. He has sharp eyes and a shrill bark, so he’s the family watchdog. He thinks he’s about 100 pounds heavier than his 14-pound frame, but he’s actually the most pathetic creature most of the time. On this trip, his most endearing/annoying habit is to insist on being in someone’s lap every single moment that we are driving. He’s not picky about whose lap he hogs, so he will spring for the driver or passenger at any given moment. It falls to the passenger to keep him out of the driver’s way. Another “endearing” habit of his is to roll in dirt or sand with great enthusiasm. He loves to find the dustiest powder and get every inch of his little body covered. He’s dumb enough to sit on cacti and get into the trash as we are watching. He barks at children without exception, most likely because a mean little boy was part of the family who fostered him. He cowers and hides when we raise our voices in anger or as a joke; we can’t get him to understand contextual clues and tell the difference between the two. He has a beautifully messed up underbite that perfectly complements his perpetual look of guilt. He’s our silly little boy.

Planning her assault on the RV carpet later that evening

Time for a pedicure

Campsite shenanigans

And Luna…the firstborn. She is my first dog, and I will never love another animal quite as much as I love her. She is a neurotic, beautiful, graceful, strong Weimaraner. She’s six now, and middle age suits her well. We considered her a puppy until about a year ago. Weims are notoriously energetic and needy, and our velcro gray ghost needs to cover lots many miles before she can relax. She’s at her best when she’s running off leash, exploring fields and forests for the most disgusting and smelly treasures she can find. She’s a flash of silver velvet in the sun, big ears flopping unashamedly. Luna is a lapdog just like Homer and will try to either steal a lap from him or “share” the lap by sitting on him. She’s on my lap now as I write, her head resting heavily and warmly on my right forearm. She is clever enough to stay out of the trash until we are out of sight, and she’s the main reason we had to keep our fireplace closed and put the covered trashcan behind a closed door. She smells like heaven when she’s sleeping, and stroking her ears is a potent relaxing medicine. She moonlights as a psychiatrist, and her loving eyes are always sympathetic and kind. You can trust her with your secrets, and she is ever-present when you need a hug. She could use some glasses and gets nervous around generators and fans. She will eat literally anything. Anything. Some of her favorite snacks over the years have been sticks (the sharper the better), any type of excrement (especially goose poop), library books and DVDs, expensive sunglasses (only polarized ones), chocolate cheesecake, chocolate chip pumpkin bread, Homer’s breakfast for three months, dead fish, dead rabbits, dead deer, dead anything. And this brings me to our latest RV mess.

Lazy dogs

We had a fabulous and free two nights camping off a forest road next to the Rio Chama outside of Abiquiu, NM. We were far from civilization, and the setting was stunning with colorful red, orange, and yellow cliffs rising up on each side of the valley. The milky green river whispered its way by outside our windows. We wore ourselves out riding through miles and miles of curvy dirt roads and hiking to Chimney Rock. At the end of a perfectly exhausting day, Luna’s eating habits got the best of her just as we were showering up and getting ready to make a hard-earned dinner. With barely any warning, she dropped her entire dinner on the carpeted RV floor – good thing we were already planning to rent another Rug Doctor. We put her outside for a few minutes, and she seemed fine. After using most of our rags and patience and all of our stain remover, we let her back in. When she showed signs of being sick again, I put her outside for a few minutes without result. The minute I let her back inside, she generously offered more of her stomach contents to the RV floor. Don’t worry – we were out of stain remover but still had plenty of carpet cleaner. She was sick most of the evening. The silver lining was that we ate dinner in camp chairs under the Milky Way by the river. She’s not at all embarrassed that we call her Luna the Puking Dog. She would eat whatever made her sick again in a heartbeat, because the more harmful, the more delectable.

Our remote campsite by the Rio Chama – can you find the RV?

Technicolor skies

Chimney Rock hike

Colorful rocky cliffs

Pancakes!

Spence Hot Springs with its rocky “sauna”

We crossed the Continental Divide yesterday and are staying at Navajo Lake State Park. We’re sacrificing privacy and a remote location for unlimited electricity, water, and really good cell service. We have a great view of the lake and marina from our campsite. We’re almost out of clean underwear, so we’ll take advantage of the crummy weather forecast tomorrow to find a laundromat and that Rug Doctor. We started our morning with whole wheat chocolate chip pancakes and strong coffee. Life is good!

The sun-kissed hour at Navajo Lake