Halters and Halos

Dixie the Wonder Dog

The air was brisk at 6:30 in the morning and I was glad I wore my hoodie. For the merry month of May, 52 degrees was unusual for the desert atmosphere of Las Vegas, Nevada. I wasn’t complaining. 120 degrees in the middle of summer will come too fast

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Dixie, my 14-year-old Shepherd/Husky mix, knows it’s Friday. She knows she gets to get out of the prison and head down the street with her house companion, my Mom’s dog Bella. They have little interaction because Dixie rarely gets along well with other dogs, but there is a treaty on the weekends. Outside the fence is Switzerland.

She waits impatiently for my Mom to get out of bed. I feed the cats, clean litter boxes and tell her to keep her pants on. I will not hurry my 87-year-old Mom. She deserves her sleep. And her dog Bella, even though she’s younger than Dix, loves to sleep in.

Bella, dog extraordinaire

As soon as she hears my Mom, Dixie barks. She lumbers to her feet, struggling with arthritis in her back legs, but she is ready to go. Well, she’ll be ready as soon as I put her halter on her. We head towards the front door, Dix barely takes a sniff at Bella who is still getting her halter on. Not trusting that I won’t turn around and put her back in the house, Dixie walks briskly towards the courtyard gate, waiting for me to open it.

Down the stone driveway we go where she has to wait again for my Mom to press the button that will open the driveway gate. Then it’s off to the races!

Across the street we go, heading up the next street, pausing at every bush, every rock and blade of almost non-existent grass. Dixie and Bella practically on top of each other trying to smell this, that and the other. They’ve come far in the two years they’ve lived together.

Business done, paper towels used and droppings placed in plastic bags, we continue up the road. Dixie’s tongue is hanging out but her grin is priceless.

Since I work in an office four days a week, she only gets these precious three days to go for an extended walk outside the walls of our home. She gets to walk in the confines of our two acres, but it’s different. Getting dressed up in a halter and leash differs from getting to roam aimlessly.

She licks at an old piece of fur from a long-ago dead animal. I pull her away. That patch has been there for weeks and now it’s fermented enough to be tasty to her. Ewww.

Aside from the occasional rabbit or quail, the street is quiet except for the landscapers driving by in their trucks, packed full of men that probably speak very little English. We wave at them. We also wave at the man and his black dog as he drives past. The dog leans out and barks. Dixie and Bella ignore her.

It’s not much, but it doesn’t take much to make my girl happy anymore. And if a short walk outside the gate makes her happy, then it makes me happy. That Rainbow Bridge will come too soon for you, girl. I hope we can skip past it a few more years.