Friday, March 13, 2009

Where is the Red Army when you need it?

The girls (my two Ridgebacks) and I go down to a local dry river bed quite often. Lately, it has been every day. People in the past have left junk down there, and since some was by where I normally park my Jeep, I decided to take trash bags down there and load up some junk. I thought that if I put one bag a week in with my normal trash I would have it cleaned up in about four weeks.

But then yesterday as I drove down there I noticed that someone had dumped a whole lot of garbage down there. When we got to our spot I could see Sage look longingly back toward the garbage which was about 100 yards away, but I said, “come on girls, we’re going this way,” and she readily came along. We walked up river (the trash was down river) and then cut over to the other side and came back. The whole trek took about 70 minutes. But when I got to the Jeep and looked about, nary a dog could I see.

I called them and after a few moments, Ginger appeared about 40 yards away with a look that said, “do you really want me? I’m awfully busy.”

And then I knew what was going on. “Yes, get over here,” I ordered. And with a few longing looks down river she complied.

I got the Jeep turned around and hurried back to where Sage was eating something as quickly as she could. I jumped out of the Jeep and ordered her to “drop it,” but she kept on trying to eat as much as possible before I made her stop. I whacked her on the rump with my hat and she sort of gave it up, but she took one more disgusting morsel with her toward the Jeep. However when I opened the door for her I saw she had dropped it. She at least knew better than to try to take something like that into the Jeep.

She got her front paws up onto the back seat and waited for me to boost her in. I thought that maybe since she knew I was mad at her, she would be able to get in by herself, but not so. I had to boost her.

Now I have been in the midst of reading about the Red Army and knew that at Stalingrad they shot soldiers who refused to fight. In America we removed Patton from duty for slapping a coward, but in Russia the Red Army was allowed to shoot theirs. After getting Sage in the Jeep, I walked back and looked at the pile of garbage and wished we could behave more like the Red Army on occasions like this. I have taken a great number of photos of the river. It is beautiful. Why would anyone dump a pick-up load of garbage down there? Surely such a person deserved to be shot I grumbled at him, whoever he was, the rest of the evening.

Actually, I didn’t leave right away. I already had my one-bag of river trash collected for the week, but amongst the trash down there was an empty trash bag; so I loaded up another bag and took it home. It looked like what you’d expect to find in the trash from a cheap restaurant or a monstrous picnic: lots of half eaten food on paper plates: portions of hamburgers and hotdogs, chips, jars of stuff. I thought that perhaps I could collect all the most edible stuff so my girls wouldn’t be tempted if we went back again today, but there was too much to get into one bag.

I woke up from a dream about what I might do to prevent someone dumping trash down there, but everything I thought of would get me into more trouble than it would get him. . . . grumble, grumble, grumble.

Perhaps the coyotes and feral dogs I occasionally write about will clean this up, but I haven’t seen or heard any in several days. I have seen hawks and crows, but how much can they eat? Maybe I’ll just stay home today L

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