Did someone drop her out here and intentionally abandon her to die? Or did she purposely head out to die alone? Or was she, perhaps, bumped out of the back of a pickup truck?

I spotted the dog ahead on the trail that leads through the marsh, looking at me. I was much further back than this. I expected it to either turn and run, or come to check me out. It did neither, but just stood there and this struck me as strange. I could see that it was a very old dog.

Jacob, Kalib and Muzzy were on the trail, a short distance behind me.

As I drew closer, I saw that the reason that it had neither fled nor approached was because it was too feeble and stiff. It growled, bared its teeth menacingly, and voided all of its urine. It was then that we knew that it was female - a very old female.

Jacob took Kalib and Muzzy on toward home. I stayed behind, to see if I could figure out how to help her. I wanted to check the tags on her collar, but, as you can see, when I would draw near, she would growl menacingly.

I did not want to get bitten.

So I put my hand on her back, just in front of her tail. She continued to growl. I spoke soothingly to her and gradually moved my hand up her back and then her neck. She quit growling, but the look of fear stayed put.

Her tags were very worn. There was a phone number on the rabies tag, but it could not be read. Her license held the number for the animal shelter. I called, but it was closed.

I did not know what to do. I tried to coax her to follow me toward the house. But she would not. I took hold of her collar and tried to lead her along, but each step that I forced out of her pained and terrified her.

I could only think of two reasons why she might be out here. Perhaps her humans did not want to deal either with taking her to the vet to be euthanized or to put her down themselves, so they had just brought her out and dumped her.

But then, sometimes, when a dog or cat is very old and knows it is going to die, it will purposefully wander off to do so in private. This is what we believe happened to Harry, the great dog of my childhood, adolescence and early adulthood.

So perhaps this is what she had done.

I walked away, wondering if I should just leave her to meet what may well have been her chosen fate.

I had not gone more than 100 yards or so when I heard the calls of ravens. I looked up and saw these two, cavorting in the sky, alert to any potential meal upon the ground. The dog could make many a fine meal for these ravens, who certainly do deserve to eat.

But I felt kind of bad about it so, as soon as I got to the house, I retrieved my reading glasses and went back to the dog. It did not help. I still could not read the phone number.

So I called Jake and told him to bring a leash. 

Then it occurred to me that the dog might belong to the people who own the marsh, the ones whose property is always being trespassed upon by four-wheeler drivers who are mental midgets and should be dispossessed of all rights to drive machines, period.

It was not their dog. Carol Shay, the lady of the house, had seen it a couple of days before, standing in the middle of Seldon, oblivious to the cars racing by it on both sides. She had tried to rescue it but its growl and bared teeth had scared her away. 

She had called the animal shelter and had told them to come and pick it up, but they had failed to do so.

Now she came with her poodle and a golden retriever and husband Dodd not far behind. They had lost an aged dog in this very marsh. It had just disappeared while they walked with it. She and her husband looked and looked, but they could never find it.

So Carol was very moved to see this old girl.

She decided to take the dog in overnight. Tomorrow, she would call the animal shelter, give them the number on the license and they could hopefully track down the dog's people. She also suggested a third possibility as to why this old dog was wandering the marsh. Perhaps she had been in the back of a pickup truck and got bumped out.

Perhaps.

I don't think so, but perhaps.

She picked it up and carried it home, her poodle close behind her.

Now, I must return to Cocoon Mode.

Cocoon mode,* day 19: On throwing stones in the presence of a big dog

I needed to take a walk, but Lavina told me that Jacob and Kalib had already left. I was way behind. In fact, they had already reached the end of the driveway. So I went into the bedroom to get my walking shoes, but I was very sleepy and the bed looked good, so I decided to lay down for a few minutes.

I was not worried about catching them.

I laid down even longer than I intended. Quite a bit longer. Twenty minutes, maybe.

Still, I quickly caught up to them and discovered that they were disturbing the tranquil waters of Little Lake.

Kalib follows his father's example.

Kalib's rock did not make it to the water. So his father tries again.

Look! The rock bounced!

When it was over, Kalib had mud on his face, plus some kind of white stuff - I don't know what.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

Cocoon mode,* day 18: Deemed hopeless by her would-be surgeon, the blond lady battles her cancer and makes amazing progress; dirty mirror, missing pet noted at accident scene

Maybe two weeks ago, I was pedaling down the Seldon Road bike trail when I spotted a familiar-looking biker coming towards me. I thought I must be wrong, because it looked like Patti, the fit, blonde lady who was supposed to be Outside, undergoing surgery for a deadly cancer.

But it was her, and she was pedaling hard and fast. She was intent on moving and did not want to stop for anything.

"I thought you would be Outside!" I shouted as we drew close.

"No!" she shouted back as she zipped past. "I'm doing something else now, it's better."

I did not see her after that and the other night I walked up by her house and all the lights were out, so I thought maybe she had gone Outside, afterall.

Today, I took a short walk before I went bike riding and as I neared her home, I heard a sound that I could hardly believe. A lawn mower. Someone was mowing a lawn - her lawn, it sounded like.

Last night, it had been snowing and raining at the same time and while there was no hint of snow on the ground this morning, everything was wet.

But it was Patti, mowing her lawn. She saw me coming, shut down the mower and walked over to chat.

So I asked why she hadn't gone Outside for her surgery. Her answer was most dismaying - the doctor who was going to do the surgery looked at all the data, and declared the cancer to be beyond treatment, hopeless, there was no point.

"But it turned out to be a good thing," she said. She continued her chemo-therapy, took up naturopathic therapy and resolved in her mind that, whatever the damn doctor said, she was going to beat this.

And guess what?

Her cancer markers have dropped, she told me,  she is improving, experiencing remission.

"What the doctor didn't know is that I am too mean to let this cancer beat me," she said.

"i've never thought of you as mean," I responded. "Tough, but not mean."

"I'm mean on cancer," she emphasized. "I tear cancer apart."

And she is not experiencing the usual side-effects of chemo therapy - no nausea, she has all her hair.

"Tell your readers I am a miracle woman."

I guess if I'm going to take pictures through the outside rear-view mirror, I ought to keep it clean. As you can see, the autofocus on the pocket camera latched on to the dirt on the glass, not the image of the people.

Oh, well.

Margie has been so miserable these past few days that I had not been able to get her out of the house - until this afternoon. She and Kalib came with me on coffee break. Kalib fell asleep in his car seat so we took a long drive and happened upon the aftermath of an accident and witnessed paperwork being filled out.

There were many more people than this standing around, but this was the view that I had in the one second that I was stopped at the red light. The accident was not the only sad thing marked here. If you could see this image full-size, then it would be clear that someone has a missing "baby" named Socks.

I am not certain if Socks is a little dog or a big squirrel or maybe a kitty, but I will keep my eyes peeled. I know how much it can hurt to loose a furry friend.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

Cocoon mode* - day 17: As seen through a cup of coffee, groggily; Kalib and Marty in the window

I wanted to sleep in late today - maybe until ten, 11 perhaps, noon. One o'clock in the afternoon would have been okay, two, three, four... all day, through tomorrow, maybe next week.

But I couldn't. Even though I did not fall sleep until after 3:00 AM, I was wide awake by a few minutes after 6:00. I tried valiantly to return to sleep, but failed.

I could hear Margie breathing from the single bed at the foot of our bed where she sleeps until she is healed.

Such a drag, her in that bed, me in the big one - 15 months now, since I fell and hurt myself. Then when I got well enough, she fell. Then finally, one night together, July 25 and then on July 26, she fell again. And now she has had a tooth pulled on top of that and still can't eat solid food.

There was a cat on the bed with me - Jim, the black one. My good buddy. Such a buddy. No dog could be his equal. Pistol-Yero is usually there, too, but he wasn't this morning. Sometimes, he just cannot muster up the courage to walk past Muzzy, who sleeps at our doorway, and into our room.

Jimmy positioned himself atop my side and he felt warm and cozy.

Sometimes, Jimmy puts me back to sleep in this way. But not this morning.

I tried and tried to sleep, but I could not.

About 7:15, I heard the sound of Margie's crutches clacking across the floor, first into the bathroom and then out the bedroom door and down the hallway.

Still I fought for sleep, because I needed it.

But it did not come.

Finally, I got up. I did not want to cook oatmeal. I did not want to eat cold cereal. I did not want to cook eggs or bacon.

So I headed to Family Restaurant, by myself, because Margie was not up to it and the rest were still dozey.

So here I am, in Family Restaurant, enjoying the company of anonymous strangers.

The waitress, who simply adored Kalib when he was a baby, saw that my cup was emptying, so she filled it, until it runneth over.

"My cup runneth over," I commented.

"Blessed be you," she answered.

Actually, I made that up. I am prone to do such things, when the truth does not satisfy me - a common trait among us famous Wasillans.

The cup did not run over. The waitress was good and knew when to stop pouring.

Then someone else was sitting at the table across from me - a man and a woman, neither of whom had any idea that their quiet moment at breakfast had been documented for presentation to the entire world. I'm pretty certain that 15 minutes after I post this image, it will be the subject of debate between Hugo Chavez, Barack Obama, Glenn Beck (who will be moved to tears), Keith Olberman and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who will be so inspired by the image and the discussion that it is about to provoke that he will compose a Violin Concerto and call it, "Family Restaurant Concerto for Violin, # 329."

And then a lady walked by the window, on her way in to Family Restaurant, to order her own coffee and who knows what else.

When I returned home and pulled into the driveway, I saw Kalib and Marty in the window, studying the world. These two are really getting educated.

I would like to go back to bed, now, but I guess I won't.

It wouldn't do me any good. I would just lie there, awake.

What's the point?

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

Obama administration wrong in effort to deny pensions to 26 members of the Alaska Territorial Guard (a brief exit from cocoon mode)

I was sitting here just now, at my computer, struggling with my project, when I heard a story on APRN's Alaska Statewide News that struck me as almost unbelievable.

The Obama Administration wants to deny pensions now included in a military spending bill for 26 surviving members of the Alaska Territorial Guard. You can find the story here in the Anchorage Daily News.

During World War II, Alaska was the only place in the United States that was not only bombed by Japan but where the enemy actually captured US soil and held it, at a terrible cost in life to both sides. To help protect Alaska, the US Army took on the organization of the Alaska Territorial Guard, comprised mostly of Alaska Natives living in remote parts of the state, particularly along the Southwest and Arctic Coasts.

Their job was to be the eyes and ears of the military in Alaska and they did it well. Of the 6600 who served in the Alaska Territorial Guard, 300 still live. After the war, 26 of these continued to serve in the US military and, if their time in the ATG is included in their military service, they qualify for full pensions.

That's what the bill does - it includes that time and makes these elderly Alaska Natives eligible for their pensions, roughly about $400 a month.

The Obama administration argues that this sets a bad precedent in making people who worked for states eligible for federal benefits.

But the ATG was organized on behalf of the US Army in a time of war that struck and held US soil.

And what will be saved by denying pensions to 26 elderly men who served their country?

Pittance.

I voted for Obama and support him in most things, but this is about as dumb, foolish and cruel a move as his administration could make.

As to the gentleman with the dog in the picture, this is the late ATG veteran John Schaeffer, Sr., Iñupiat, at his cabin out in the country about 21 miles from Kotzebue.

In the late 90's, I did a project on behalf of the Alaska Federation of Natives wherein I photographed and interviewed Native veterans from across the state. Most of these were regular military men and women who had served overseas in conflicts from World War II, Korea, Vietnam and the original Gulf War.

I was visiting Kotzebue and wanted to include some ATG members. Several folks said I ought to talk to John Schaeffer, Sr. I tracked him down through his son, John Schaeffer, Jr., the former Adjutant General of the Alaska National Guard. The general warned me in advance that his father was an ornery and crusty old man who did not like to be disturbed by anyone when he was at camp.

Still, he managed to get a radio message out to his father and asked him if I could come and pay him a visit. "No," the elder Schaeffer retorted.

But both Schaeffer's had served in the military to keep America free and I was a free man, able to go wherever the hell I wanted to go - especially in those days, because I had not yet crashed my little bush plane and so the lack of roads was no impediment to me.

So I flew out, found his cabin, put my skis down on the snow covering the frozen surface of Kotzebue Sound's Hotham Inlet and climbed out of the airplane to be greeted by his barking dog.

I was there. John loved airplanes. I had flown in myself. His dog barked but didn't bite. He invited me into his cabin, fed me fish and moose and we talked about airplanes, and his time in the Alaska Territorial Guard.

The ATG was organized by the famed Colonel "Muktuk" Marston, originally of Washington State, who traveled about western and northern Alaska and gained the friendship and trust of the Native people.

Perhaps Marston would not have done quite so well as he did, had it not been for Schaeffer, who took him all over Northwest Alaska by dog team.

"“We used to have a lot of fun," Schaeffer remembered their travels. "I always get a kick out of him, Muktuk Marston. Every time we camp we had a little 8x10 tent, I’d pitch it up.  When he get ready to go to bed, he always take all his clothes off, and walk out the door bare-footed.” He laughed loud at the memory. “I hear him crunching around in the snow, going to toilet.  That guy was pretty tough, boy.  He said he always sleep better when he do that, walk out naked."

Tough as Marston was, he did sometimes find himself in need of Schaeffer's protection, such the time they mushed into a trading post in Kiana to spend the night.

They arrived late, around nine or ten o'clock. Even though she was drunk, the wife of the owner fixed them some food and they sat down to eat it. Her mother was also drunk, upstairs.

“Then all of a sudden, there was a big commotion, they had a stair way up to the second floor.  Something was coming down the stairs: 'Bang! Bang! Bang!'  That other woman, she fell down coming down the stairs, and she just rolled down, 'Klunk! Klunk! Klunk!' down to the floor.  When we got through eating, I told Muktuk, ‘I’m going out to feed the dogs.’

 “‘Don’t leave me, don’t leave me!’ he was just like a kid, he didn’t want to be left behind with them two drunks in the house.

"I took him along. I got a kick out of that."

Maybe he didn't see combat, but Schaeffer did risk his life serving the ATG. In one instance, he paddled a kayak out to an ice flow to hunt seals (the ATG lived off the land and sea). The ice broke between him and the Kayak and he started drifting away. When he discovered what was happening, the gap was growing fast. Holding a rifle in one hand and a large, steel, seal hook in the other, Schaeffer took a run and leaped, fearful that he might not make it across. He did. Just barely. And when he turned around to look, he estimated the gap to be 20 feet wide and widening rapidly. 

"That was the longest jump I ever made in my life, boy! Even my own pulse skipped a beat when I see that water.  It was a long jump, but I made it.  I just barely made it too. That, although I’m a pretty good swimmer I could swim a little ways before I get stiff.  Cold waters, I don’t think I could last very long."

Well, I have again taken a brief break from "Cocoon Mode" and believe me, I cannot afford the time that I have spent doing so.

But I wasn't accomplishing near as much as I would have hoped, anyway, and when I heard the story on the news, it made me angry.

Obama is right on health care. He is wrong in this. I hope that he will soon figure that out.

And any aide stupid and mean enough to come up with such a scheme ought to be fired.