Digging a hole?
You're not alone
Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup
gonna dig myself a hole
move my baby down in the ground
when I come out, there won’t be no wars around
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I keep looking for the puppies from Black Brindle who I’m calling Calico or Cali now. She’s got all the milk and none of the pups. She’s still inside that gross vacant yard and the gate is a little open. So I’m a little trespassing.
I found her in a hole she’s dug and a deeper bigger hole likely for puppies but there were no pups. The guy next door said she only had one left and they had it inside. I try not to dissuade anyone from trying to help dogs here because it’s rare but puppies need mama’s milk. But if she doesn’t eat she can’t feed them, so I’m focusing on her. It’s sad to say but if the puppies die it will be the best thing for them. I’m mostly trying to befriend this little gal to get her to a spay place. No cages, no car, no transport and the vet says he’s not doing spays in town anymore, so a challenge but that’s my goal.
Calico comes a little closer each day and I try to figure out how to help her and others without moving another dog into the fold. 11 in this tiny house may tip the scales.
Not all the time loud, but a couple times a day when there’s foot traffic out front, it’s a real I’m Living In a Dog Pound barkathon. They go in the back to play and poo but nothing is more fun than watching foot and paw traffic. The noise bothers me more than anyone else, I only have occasional neighbors and anyone who has been in Mexico knows that barking and roving piles of dogs is the norm, unfortunately. I’m for sure the most noise averse person in town, Mexicans like BIG speakers, lots of concerts, deep mufflers, racing dune buggies, parades, fireworks—Christmas parades this week have been a chanting shuffle of the abuelas (grandmas) for the Virgen de Guadalupe morphing into techno beat box neon flashing lights and horses behind loud trucks.
Fewer than 1200 people here and the bulk of them teenagers. Lots of hotflame blue cheeto bags on the ground. If I can find my ear plugs I go watch the parades because they are creative for a town with no money and admittedly the DJ and beat box is fire. Yesterday I had another migraine that came from the quiet middle of the night crocodile pit of my brain at 2am, lasting 24 hours so I couldn’t rally to go see the procession. The lights are more triggering than loud music. Across the road the lady has decked the halls with more LED flashing lights and digital Frosty the Snowman on a loop. Remember that ABC School Special The Boy in the Bubble? I feel like that. I’d like to be Xena the Warrior but half way into the battle I have to put Vick’s under my nose because I’ll throw up if I smell exhaust fumes. What a putz.
I learned long ago, you can’t cover the world in plastic wrap, only yourself. Even on a farm I used to have in the middle of nowhere with acreage, and forest all around, the North Georgia chicken processing mafia plants mixed with the perfumed toxic scented candle factory stench a few miles away. Disgusting. A lot of days I could not be outside to enjoy the bucolic country life of my overpriced real estate. I realize that it’s me and my sensitivities that have special needs, so all things being equal it hurts less to live in a $298 neighborhood.
In my future book called How Not to Ruin Your Life But Still Rescue Dogs, I’ll reveal all my secrets and how I’ve made it work. I haven’t written anything yet. There will also be a chapter about how I’ve figured out how to teach dogs to all sleep on my bed and leave me an S shaped curve therein. It’s a special talent.
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