El rio es frio
I waited allll afternoon for the rain to stop so Banzai and I could go for a creek hike. I figured the water would be cold, and it definitely was that, but I hadn't counted on the rain having stirred up all the sediment. The water was so cloudy, we couldn't see anything in it, which made obstacle avoidance pretty much impossible. It was even difficult to avoid the obstacles we're used to avoiding without even thinking about, because the storm had moved things around so much. I didn't even want to attempt going under the bridges with the water level so much higher and all the things I've tripped on and learned to avoid being in all new places for my feet and knees and forearms to discover.
I could really have used more exercise, but Banzai wasn't enjoying the cold and I wasn't enjoying having to go slow and feel my way along, so we got out before the first bridge and walked back on the bike path. My legs are still purpley-pink from the cold and I've been home a good 10 minutes.
I took The Banzerator out yesterday and he did really well. It's always a shock when he's well-behaved and going out with him isn't a struggle. The ducks like to mess with him by letting him get really close, swimming upstream as fast as he can, and they just float along, keeping just out of reach. Right when he's within a foot or two, they lift up out of the water and move a few yards upstream. Or down, if we're going that way. They're almost as bad as squirrels. He was straining to get at a small flock of them a few days ago and I was keeping a good grip on the leash when it suddenly went completely slack. I thought the retractable cord had broken again on yet another leash, but when I reeled it back, the clip was still on it. It had somehow detached itself and Banzai went tearing off.
He loves being chased, and hates being caught. This is always a huge pain in the ass and monumentally stressful when there's cars around. Since we were directly under the 6th Ave/I25 junction bridge, I was standing there holding the leash, fully expecting him to find his way up the embankment, past the fences, and onto the highway. I called his name a few times, sounding as unstressed as I could and definitely not chasing him. I was standing in the water, not chasing him or even looking around frantically for him, but thinking of all the cars that wouldn't be able to stop if they wanted to and how I'd have to go back up and dodge cars while I scooped up whatever body parts were left and get them back down the embankment, down the bike path and to my car.
While I was standing there thinking the doggie apocalypse was moments away, I heard a little sound, just like collar tags clinking. I looked down and he was sitting quietly to my right, almost touching my leg, and definitely not smeared across the highway like a Banzai-colored crayon. I put my hand down, he didn't move away, and he stayed still while I clipped the leash back on him. He got told what an amazing, wonderful, great, ossim and good boy he is, and we continued upstream. I was still in shock but had to play it cool cuz that's what moms do. Plus if I had freaked out, he wouldn't come to me so easily next time that happens.
I found Banzai's crawdad frenemy in its usual spot about 10 minutes later. It was taking a nap on the bottom of the creek, belly up. Perhaps it was meditating! I risked disturbing its tranquility by picking it up to say hello face to face, but it didn't even bother waving back. Hm. I shook its claw, just to be polite. No response. Maybe the crawdad had bad experiences with humans before and just didn't feel comfortable communicating with me. That's cool, I understand, no hard feelings. I gave it to Banzai to see if maybe it was a species issue. He sniffed it, took it in his mouth, gave a good crunch, and dropped the definitely-not-meditating-or-napping former featherweight champeen of that part of the creek back into the water. I suspect we won't be having any more socially awkward encounters there.
We got out of the water a bit later and walked the bike path back. Sometimes, we'll go as far as we can, then take the bike path partway back and get into the water again about halfway back. This time (a day or two ago), we took the bike path the whole way. There's a group of pretty rough-looking, impoverished-appearing middle-aged white guys that like to hang out there most afternoons, all sitting around a picnic table. Sometimes they say hello when they see me drag my sopping-wet ass up out of the water on a platform near their usual table. I'd been wondering what they got up to, because I'd usually just see them from the parking lot. Are they an informal AA group? Are they meeting up to do drugs? Are they discussing literature? Having hot gay group sex? Singing praises to the spirit of the river? I'd been mildly curious, and I was almost disappointed when the mystery solved itself: they were playing cards. We walked by them and they said, "Hey, there she is! How's the water today?" I told them it was very nice and they asked how the dog was. I told them (cuz it was the day he'd slipped off the leash) that he was a complete asshole. They laughed. Then they told me it was one of their birthdays, so I said happy birthday. I don't think I even saw any beer cans. They're just a bunch of broke old dudes who like to hang out together, possibly after work or instead of.
When I saw them today, they all said hello and asked, as usual, how the water was. I told them it was fucking cold, because it was, but that we got out because we couldn't see. One of the guys started telling me about all the contaminants in the water and the different ailments they could cause. He advised me to be careful out there. I told him that I believed I must be building up a pretty good immunity to all the stuff in the river by now and they laughed.
I can almost feel my legs again. I hope I can do it again tomorrow, even though my water shoes are in tatters. A friend just ordered me a pair of new water shoes. I'm all excited. I hope it doesn't get too cold to use them by the time they come in the mail.
I could really have used more exercise, but Banzai wasn't enjoying the cold and I wasn't enjoying having to go slow and feel my way along, so we got out before the first bridge and walked back on the bike path. My legs are still purpley-pink from the cold and I've been home a good 10 minutes.
I took The Banzerator out yesterday and he did really well. It's always a shock when he's well-behaved and going out with him isn't a struggle. The ducks like to mess with him by letting him get really close, swimming upstream as fast as he can, and they just float along, keeping just out of reach. Right when he's within a foot or two, they lift up out of the water and move a few yards upstream. Or down, if we're going that way. They're almost as bad as squirrels. He was straining to get at a small flock of them a few days ago and I was keeping a good grip on the leash when it suddenly went completely slack. I thought the retractable cord had broken again on yet another leash, but when I reeled it back, the clip was still on it. It had somehow detached itself and Banzai went tearing off.
He loves being chased, and hates being caught. This is always a huge pain in the ass and monumentally stressful when there's cars around. Since we were directly under the 6th Ave/I25 junction bridge, I was standing there holding the leash, fully expecting him to find his way up the embankment, past the fences, and onto the highway. I called his name a few times, sounding as unstressed as I could and definitely not chasing him. I was standing in the water, not chasing him or even looking around frantically for him, but thinking of all the cars that wouldn't be able to stop if they wanted to and how I'd have to go back up and dodge cars while I scooped up whatever body parts were left and get them back down the embankment, down the bike path and to my car.
While I was standing there thinking the doggie apocalypse was moments away, I heard a little sound, just like collar tags clinking. I looked down and he was sitting quietly to my right, almost touching my leg, and definitely not smeared across the highway like a Banzai-colored crayon. I put my hand down, he didn't move away, and he stayed still while I clipped the leash back on him. He got told what an amazing, wonderful, great, ossim and good boy he is, and we continued upstream. I was still in shock but had to play it cool cuz that's what moms do. Plus if I had freaked out, he wouldn't come to me so easily next time that happens.
I found Banzai's crawdad frenemy in its usual spot about 10 minutes later. It was taking a nap on the bottom of the creek, belly up. Perhaps it was meditating! I risked disturbing its tranquility by picking it up to say hello face to face, but it didn't even bother waving back. Hm. I shook its claw, just to be polite. No response. Maybe the crawdad had bad experiences with humans before and just didn't feel comfortable communicating with me. That's cool, I understand, no hard feelings. I gave it to Banzai to see if maybe it was a species issue. He sniffed it, took it in his mouth, gave a good crunch, and dropped the definitely-not-meditating-or-napping former featherweight champeen of that part of the creek back into the water. I suspect we won't be having any more socially awkward encounters there.
We got out of the water a bit later and walked the bike path back. Sometimes, we'll go as far as we can, then take the bike path partway back and get into the water again about halfway back. This time (a day or two ago), we took the bike path the whole way. There's a group of pretty rough-looking, impoverished-appearing middle-aged white guys that like to hang out there most afternoons, all sitting around a picnic table. Sometimes they say hello when they see me drag my sopping-wet ass up out of the water on a platform near their usual table. I'd been wondering what they got up to, because I'd usually just see them from the parking lot. Are they an informal AA group? Are they meeting up to do drugs? Are they discussing literature? Having hot gay group sex? Singing praises to the spirit of the river? I'd been mildly curious, and I was almost disappointed when the mystery solved itself: they were playing cards. We walked by them and they said, "Hey, there she is! How's the water today?" I told them it was very nice and they asked how the dog was. I told them (cuz it was the day he'd slipped off the leash) that he was a complete asshole. They laughed. Then they told me it was one of their birthdays, so I said happy birthday. I don't think I even saw any beer cans. They're just a bunch of broke old dudes who like to hang out together, possibly after work or instead of.
When I saw them today, they all said hello and asked, as usual, how the water was. I told them it was fucking cold, because it was, but that we got out because we couldn't see. One of the guys started telling me about all the contaminants in the water and the different ailments they could cause. He advised me to be careful out there. I told him that I believed I must be building up a pretty good immunity to all the stuff in the river by now and they laughed.
I can almost feel my legs again. I hope I can do it again tomorrow, even though my water shoes are in tatters. A friend just ordered me a pair of new water shoes. I'm all excited. I hope it doesn't get too cold to use them by the time they come in the mail.