Chapter 1
We managed to live together for 18 years. Some snarls, blood letting nips, stubborn refusals to ‘come to me!’ but mostly totally in love, affectionate and co-dependent. I say co-dependent because she was my small mid-calf shadow. She traveled the backseat of my Ford Explorer, Subaru Outback, Subaru Forester, and the bench seat of Mongo, the rugged, trusty, rusty ’88 Ford F 250 4X4. She rode hundreds of rapids in a 14 foot raft and leaned behind me as her splash guard in my 10 foot Aire inflatable kayak. She outlived all her doggie friends and relatives and became a legend in stories told around campfires and barstools from Texas to California.
We shared many adventures from the winding mountain trails of the Continental Divide in Colorado to trudging the desert sands of Utah’s Grand Gulch. Tracy, known by most as RLT, Rotten Little Terrier, braced herself for the roiling waters of the Rio Grande, Chama River in New Mexico, Salt River in Arizona, Main Salmon in Idaho, the Arkansas River and in this photo, on the placid Pueblo Reservoir.
From this point, I’ll turn the voice over to RLT, who needs to tell her story, her way.
I’m just a squirming little grub among other mewing, pushy pups swimming toward the sweet fragrance of mother’s milk. I’m so small that those big fat litter mates shove me away so I gotta be fierce. I’ll tell ’em! I have needle teeth and they will let me through. That’s all I remember until I gained strength and found my legs. Those first stumbling attempts were thwarted by the bigger pups bumping me, running over me and squashing my valiant attempts to run free. But I learned. However, being the runt of the litter, I was shy and had to discover ways to survive among the grrrrr, sharp bites, ear splitting yaps and barks. The giant human in charge put us in a room that smelled like puppy pee and poop. Not much sunlight either. Warm sunshine poured through one small window and that was my place after morning milk and crunchy kibble that kinda hurt my teeth that kept falling out ever so often.
One morning while napping I heard strange voices. Not just the sound of our human in charge, but new sounds from a man and a lady. All of us scrambled to the cage door, yipping and yapping and snarling and growling and a bit hysterical. I had watched two of my big brothers do this and some people picked them up from the cage and made smacking noises like they were gonna eat them, but instead, they left with my brothers and never came back. So many days and nights went by. I slept in the sun, sniffed corners, ate those hard kibbles and watched my siblings leave one by one. Only my sister and I were left when the man and lady came that cold October morning. We shoved at one another to get to the cage door crying to be picked up even though we didn’t know what happened outside our little house.
They talked to the human in charge for a while, then the lady picked up my sister and the man leaned down to lift me up so gently then tucked me into his warm, warm jacket. I totally snuggled into his warmth. My sister was wriggling and licking ready to play and the lady just laughed and rolled a ball for her. They seemed so happy to have my sister for a playmate. I was happy to be warm and cozy. The people talked for a while and the man set me down back in the cage. He looked so sad. They took my sister away and I was alone, cold and really scared for the first time. That night, I was so cold without my sister to curl up with and I cried really loud but nobody came. This is what sadness is. Alone. Lonely. Cold. Afraid. Hungry. No mother. No brothers and sisters. Hard kibble. A cage. The only sound was my whimpering and crying loud.
The next morning I lay in my tiny patch of sunlight, took a deep breath and sighed, head between my paws. Then I heard it. I pricked my pointy black ears at a familiar sound I remembered when the people took my sister away. It was a growl from the big machine, a truck it’s called. I scrambled to my paws and dashed to the cage door, crying and yapping, jumping for something that I didn’t know but anything other than this painful loneliness. I recognized those voices. A man and a woman talking and laughing to the human in charge. They entered the house and the man walked over to me and laughed at my shivering wriggle and his big hands wrapped around my shaky body and lifted me up so fast I almost lost my breath. He tucked me into his jacket just like I remembered. The lady was laughing and talking about Sissy Louise and what they would name me. What? A name? They thanked the human in charge and we left that smelly, cold, sad place forever.
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