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Saturday, March 8, 2008

Back with Kevin and the dogs








It’s good to be back home with Kevin and the dogs. How easy it was for me to get back into the old routine of waking up at 5am to share coffee with Kevin before he goes to work. By then the dogs are watching my every move, from putting on my shoes, combing my hair, and as soon as I grab my jacket and house keys they know they are ready to go for a walk up the mountains.

A visit to the vets on Thursday confirmed my suspicion: the dogs had gained weight, especially Sammy. Two years ago I took them in for their shots in March and Sara weighed 64 pounds, Sammy 60. Now he weighs 69 pounds, she 68. He’s noticeably fat, and Kevin described Sammy as looking like Michael Keaton’s Beetlejuice: Big body with “a little head.” This is why I have to encourage daily walks with the dogs for a few hours. The dogs, in turn, seem to want and need the exercise.

Hunter Canyon is the perfect trail to take the dogs on for a solitary workout. It’s only three miles away by car, it’s two miles one way, and it’s steep. The trail is exposed to the sun but offers nice views of the San Pedro Valley and Mexico. The only people we ever see are illegals running down the canyon and Border Patrol agents chasing after them. The dogs are off leash and never bother anyone or anything…except a few white-tailed deer they may attempt to chase

Yesterday (Friday) we power hiked up Hunter Canyon, relaxed in the shade of a few Ponderosa Pines, then drove to Bisbee and Tombstone, two towns that Tucsonans drive down for the weekend. For us they are backyard towns. Not much has changed in either town. Only Sierra Vista, the ugliest of the three cities, has grown, now claiming a new Texas Roadhouse Steakhouse and a few other restaurants that will surely go under in a few years like so many others have.

And earlier today we hiked up an illegal immigrant trail off Ramsey Canyon, where after a mile of uphill climbing we came across several "landfills" of abandoned backpacks, toiletries and clothes. We both grabbed just enough to take back comfortably to the trailhead trashbin, but we barely made a dent in the trail trash.
"Hey look, here are some designer sunglasses!" said Kevin as he held up a pair of genuine replica designer shades. He also pointed out empty tuna fish cans that had been pryed open by bear teeth: the cans' metal tops were ripped open with ragged edges and bent to superhuman angles. I also noted toothpaste and deoderant containers that were torn open by bear teeth, so somewhere in the Huachuca mountains is a clean-smelling bear with mint breath.
The sight of so much trash in the mountains once angered me. Now it's an everyday occurence. It's made me immune to the plight of the illegal immigrant. No one I know is against immigration, but it's the blatant disregard to the many legal immigrants that angers most Arizonans. Trashing up trails in the mountains does not make residents living along the borders sensitive to the illegals darting across, because it's people like Kevin and me who feel a need to clean up the trash.

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