Prince by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 17
It was the best of summer days. Toward the end of July the
“monsoon” season hit New Mexico, during which one quarter to one half of the entire year’s average, eight inches of precipitation falls in a two week period, though often drenching Albuquerque and doing little or nothing in Corrales. The threatening gray clouds rumble much of the time, but they are big talk and no action. After the first few days of inactivity people pay no attention to the boom-diddy-boom-diddy-thpfff and go about their daily business with perennially verbose, shaded skies. But today, Polly woke to a reborn sun, timidly making its way over the Sangre De Cristos and touching her eastern window. It seemed to peek through the jagged, uneven summits in an effort to survey the day’s hindrances. All that it could see ahead of it was pastel blue and the old traveler was ready to warm up the place, which had been recently cooled and doused by the sky’s throne pretenders. Prince was already at the window looking up at what he thought may never return, {He’s a dog, he doesn’t know. At least he wasn’t sure.} when Polly snuck up behind him in awe of what she had forgotten. {She’s a human with a typically short memory.} The jubilant vacationer leaped over the last remaining boulders in its path, took on a slightly red hue, lit up the valley and seemed to be enthused to have again
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been given the opportunity to do what it was made for. The forlorn bushes, leaves and even the groundcovers turned to greet their old friend, wanting to say; “We’ve been waiting. Where have you been? This isn’t the time of year to spend in St.
Tropez!”
Polly ran downstairs with Prince at her heels. She got his food ready and led him by dish into the backyard where he showed more interest in rolling on his back in the warming grass. Polly wanted to rush back in to quickly have coffee and heat up her frozen breakfast of a “Microwavable Big Mama Sugarbush’ Bacon, Ham and Eggs,” but Prince gave her a sideways glance as he reclined on the emerald bed. She knew that this was a plea for belly rubs and she obliged him furiously before again discovering that the seemingly lifeless microwave was indeed capable of something other than displaying its un-moving presence.
Finishing her nourishment in the otherwise empty-of-humans kitchen, she ran back upstairs and put on her dirtiest clothes; a predominately white (when washed) Rolling Stones T-shirt and cut off blue jeans, she the operator of the crooked scissors weeks prior. She leaped back down the stairs, taking three at a time with the aid of the sturdy bannister and got back to Prince.
She attached his super-long chain to his blue collar and they were off; through the strange triangular room and garage, down the driveway and onto the heated asphalt of Camino De Lucia. Prince
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chose to run on the grass and Polly surprised him as she was able to keep up, her sneakers protecting her from the road’s roasting ability, while affording her superior traction. Polly had to make a quick move as Prince passed the Rulestone “For Sale” sign on the grass and she nimbly scooted behind him after getting a brief glance at the placard hung from a wooden post and partial rail, reminiscent of an old, “Wild West” days, vigilante hanging apparatus, which now said something about the historical nature of the infamous, over-priced property.
The abundance of puddles made Prince slower than usual, as he wanted to savor every one. He splashed through them in an effort to get coolness on a body that already felt the strength of a well-rested sun. He was able to add brown spots to his black and to Polly’s exposed legs. He thought; “I need deeper water,” and again picked up speed. The right-of–way to the Bosque was now covered with tall grass as the residents of Camino De Lucia were either too old or too reserved to venture into the “wild,” one-quarter to one-half mile from their haciendas. Prince found it with ease by following the coyote scent. Soon the houses faded from view and all they could see was the cottonwood forest ahead.
Complete relaxation took over as the brown-spotted duo tasted nature at its peak; well watered and very warm; sultry.
Prince went right into the muddy ditch and was surprised to see that Polly followed him right in. It was at a low and she was
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only knee-deep as she walked behind the half swimming, half wading, cool puppy. Neither had ever put a high priority on cleanliness when together, but Polly often wondered why Prince relished drinking the stuff. Maybe it was the doggy equivalent of coffee and she thought that she might ask him someday, but not today.
Having company, Prince was in no hurry to leave, filling some of the time with sniffing investigations of the beaver holes just above water level. Polly prayed that one wouldn’t decide to pop out as she thought; “If they can gouge out a tree trunk, imagine what they can do to his face,” but the beavers patiently waited until the coast was clear before they put their heads out to see who had come calling.
Prince pulled Polly back into the bright sun, almost a necessity on the steep banks. Without second thought he crossed the rusting iron bridge, now shaky and not conducive to being treated as a trampoline. Polly asked; “When are they going to replace it? How many have to be hurt before they do?” Prince didn’t understand her words, but could easily glean the bridge’s condition and knew that when it became a hazard he could use the ditch itself to cross now that he knew Polly was not averse to wading. He went around the useless perennially closed gate, which now displayed a sign advising people that; “This is the home of coyotes. They can be dangerous. If one is encountered, do not
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run. Back away slowly.” One neighbor who grew up in the area had advised Polly that under no circumstances do coyotes want to meet humans as Corrales is close to areas where they are shot on sight.
However, she also said that if they are desperately hungry they will attempt to lure a dog, even Prince’s size, away by sending out one. If Prince were to go over to the lure more will appear, kill and eat him. She said that if he were kept on a leash, this could not happen. Up until now Polly and Prince had no trouble with coyotes and she hoped that they didn’t read the sign.
Again thirsty, Prince went right into the window-like “clear ditch,” appropriately named for its lucidity and lack of grime, as a result of its filtered feeding from the Rio Grande. Fish scooted upon sensing the huge intruder; Polly sat on the bed until all the mud was washed away by the flow, and then stood, giving Prince access to the deepest spot. Two very clean, very wet and very cool wanderers climbed the graduated bank, crossed the sturdy land bridge and slowly mounted the levee, Prince sniffing about to determine who was or is a recent visitor. They stood at the top and leisurely took in the view; the rocky Sangre De Cristos doing better than anyone else at piercing the sky across the river; the river, itself, flowing smoothly and quietly, and at the duo’s 200
foot distance, looking as pure as the clear ditch; the cottonwoods with their 100 foot height and spread, looking very refreshed, with their densely packed, triangular, spade shaped, green and
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shiny leaves turned to the climbing sun providing great shady areas if desired; and the abundance of two foot shrubs, too numerous and complex to delineate, with flowers of red, purple, gold, orange, pink, lavender, yellow and even blue decorating everywhere, some appearing as though they had come from another planet, in a rainbow of visual and aromatic, multi-dimensional delight.
Prince and Polly lost track of time, as they stood motionless and quiet, observing one thing, then another, then another, on and on until they were back where they started and desirous of taking another go around, which they did and did and did. Polly murmured; “This can go on forever,” which Prince misinterpreted as meaning something like; “Ready to get moving?” and he was happy to oblige.
They descended the levee and entered Corrales’ garden, known to the few, but spoken of by the many. Prince took the most direct path to the river, as he had been in the direct sun at the levee crest long enough to have completely dried out. He also was curious to see if the Rio Grande’s clear and blue, flowing appearance he thought he saw from the distance, which seemed to duplicate the color of today’s, normally erratic, sky, was a reality, a mere reflection or an illusion.
They reached the edge and watched the rippling water make its timeless way. The river was lower than recently and this resulted
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in no banks washed away; no mud, no coffee and no dirt; just clear blue. Prince made the leap and Polly followed, both feeling the tugging rush; Prince up to his neck and Polly up to her waist.
Nature’s bathing resource lapped away whatever remained of their mud residue. Polly bent down and immersed herself to the neck to give her Rolling Stones T-shirt the same treatment as her cut-off jeans. They moved downriver, then back up, over and over, again losing track of time. Clocks were the furthest things from their minds while they played in the cool water, splashing each other.
Prince noticed that the sun was almost directly overhead and he wanted to see many other areas before the day ended, so he pulled Polly out of the Rio Grande and headed southeast on the river path, sun still in his eyes. The wildflowers lining the path made Prince stop frequently, as he had to investigate those particularly exotic fragrances, content to be cursory and bring the scent back to Polly, who didn’t notice the perfumes so vivid to him and seldom broke stride.
Where the path forked he chose to leave the river as it had been well-used already and went inland to the cottonwood forest.
The off and on shade provided by the peaceful giants cooled them and they were now well away from the worn path. They slowly made their way through the ground, which was hidden in the tall grass, wildflowers and tiny bushes. It was a relaxing easy trip for Prince, though Polly had an occasional, minor stumble in the
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secreted dead sticks. Prince was surprised whenever the chain got taut and looked back at Polly to see what was keeping her, hoping that she had found a particularly great wildflower for him. She laughed each time and said; “This must be my clumsy day.”
As the rustling leaves drew her attention, she recalled that this was the domain of the umbrella woman and she wondered if they were under surveillance. Though she now felt comfortable with the coyote lover, she still had an innate aversion to being watched and scrutinized. She had heard the stupid insectile justification that; “You shouldn’t mind unless you’re doing something wrong,”
and found that objectionably judgmental, as the pest decides what’s right and wrong for the two of them. She did her best to concentrate on Prince and the surroundings. She said; “This is going to be a perfect day no matter what creep is compelled to try to be part of it.” Prince didn’t take her meaning, as he didn’t care what the creeps’ problems were and he didn’t think that it would be of any concern to Polly “way out here.”
Not wanting to scrape her bare legs in a fall Polly had an easy time forgetting about intruders as she watched only what was right in front of her; Prince and tons of uncut grass. She picked up the heady aroma and wondered if this was what Prince had been trying to bring to her attention or if his senses carried him even more.
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Dodging the irregularly placed trees, they walked a winding course and as they just began to feel as if they were cooling down to a “normal” level, Prince exited the woods and entered a sandy area populated only by small plants. They again felt the persistent sun, this time to their backs. It cast compressed and tiny, ten o’clock shadows in front of them and reflected off the sand itself to give the appearance that a yellow aura was emanating from the ground, giving everything a surreal touch.
Polly whispered; “Far out.”
Prince thought; “Far out,” and took a seat on the warm sand to admire the visual display. Polly joined him and for the first time they sat outside together without their having had an issue.
The brushy plants took on the appearance of something not of this world, but a place more fantastic. Off and away their plain brown stems lost their drab nature by donning the clothing of light and now appeared to be of misty golden hue. Their tiny flowers flickered the red, purple and yellow colors as if they were in a 1910, hand-cranked movie. The ones closest had not yet opted for the wardrobe enhancement, perhaps because they felt watched.
Prince and Polly’s eyes got heavier and heavier. They reclined on their sides and fell asleep.
Prince woke first and saw that the sun was in its mid-afternoon place. He licked Polly’s face to wake her, thinking;
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“Come on. It’s getting late and we still haven’t seen everything.”
She stretched out and took one more, long look at the magical bushes. Prince started moving and Polly held him back, still fascinated with the plays of light. Prince tugged at the leash and Polly said; “All right. All right. A few seconds doesn’t matter. Jeez.”
She followed him back toward the river to a wide strip of land further from the levee. If they didn’t know any better they might have believed that they were in the middle of a national forest, with a changing mixture of woods and grassy fields. It didn’t look overly familiar to either of them, especially since Prince showed his disdain for the ordinary path, making his own.
Polly wondered if they were in the general vicinity before, but on a different Prince trail. He had other thoughts; about being thirsty and taking a turn toward the scent of seaweed.
Moving quickly with Polly having to duck under low branches they reached the river. Here it was three feet below land level.
The only way to go was to jump right in not knowing what was beneath them. It was adequately clear to see there were no hazards like discarded shopping carts, but Prince could not gauge the depth and he didn’t like getting in over his head.
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Prince stopped at the edge and mulled things over. He thought; “Worst case the water will be deep, but I really need a drink. Polly will stay on shore and be able to pull me out.”
He dove in and as he shook the water from his face and eyes, he was surprised to see that he had Polly’s company. Both had feet on the bed and were safe, but Prince gave her a chastising look and thought; “This could have been a disaster. For once in your life would you please be rational!”
Polly didn’t know exactly what he was thinking, but guessed the general direction. She bent down and used her left hand to splash water on him, saying; “Pthfff.”
His thirst quenched and again ready to roam, Prince went up the bank in two leaps and turned around to pull Polly up. She wouldn’t move and pointed out into the river.
Prince didn’t understand, but thought; “Uh oh,” and tried another tug.
Polly made another point.
Tug.
Point.
Prince finally looked in the direction of her finger and saw the island about 70 feet away. He looked at her, knee deep in the river, and tried to convey with his eyes; “You have got to be kidding. All the way out there?”
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Polly said; “I’ve always wanted to go out to one of the islands and be completely alone with you. Today is our lucky day.
Let’s do it!” She took a step toward the island and gave him a tug.
His eyes widened and pointed at the island. He shook his head; “No.”
Tug.
Point and shake.
Tug.
Prince was scared and tried to do some serious thinking.
“What can happen? The river will remain as shallow as it is near shore and everything will be all right. If we hit a deep spot we can turn back. As long as only one is in the deep stuff the other can pull them out. I’ll stay a little behind her and if she goes under I’ll pull her back toward shore. .......” Tug. Tug. “All right! All right! There’s probably something I haven’t yet considered, but I’ve gotten the main idea; stay a bit back.”
Tug. Tug. “All right! All right! Here I come.” Prince jumped back in, his splash covering Polly with water. She didn’t care and was just happy to see that he had joined her. She patted his head and said; “Thanks. I love you, Prince.” His momentary look conveyed more worry than anything else, but he was also determined to see this thing through as well as he could.
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She took a step toward the island and his eyes intrepidly scouted the area for potential problems. His wrinkled brow and overall demeanor would have been admired by Maxwell Smart. He brightly deduced that water was ahead. It was flowing a little more forcefully than he had expected and that he and Polly were in it.
The current consistently eased them to the south, but they started with a good margin for error and were still well on course to meet the island. Prince’s worst fears did not come true as the deepest water level they encountered was up to Polly’s belly and while this made Prince a bit uneasy, necessitating a doggy paddle while drifting away, he soon saw that she was able to keep him with her by slogging through the muddy bottom and diligently holding his chain.
They reached the island and Prince anxiously jumped onto shore, navigating the 30 inch vertical bank with two smaller leaps. Though she had difficulty, he pulled Polly up, she having to crawl on her stomach the last step. The island showed no signs of recently having been visited by anything other than birds as there was absolutely no trail through the densely packed trees and lots of lively undergrowth. Prince was at his best as he easily maneuvered between the largest obstacles and Polly reverted to her useless cries of; “Slow, slow.” Prince did slow down, but not out of choice. Polly was forced to hold him back as the going was
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extremely slow for her, tripping on plants which covered the entirety of the grounds.
It seemed later in the day than it actually was as the tree canopies blocked all overhead sunlight, giving the place somewhat of a macabre feel. Polly tried to joke and said; “Zis eez zee home of zee undead. I veel have to splash zem vit my holy vater.
I’ll spit.”
Prince knew nothing more of the undead or zombies other than those he had met on Camino De Lucia and his instincts told him that they weren’t here.
They plodded and plodded, sweating in the summer heat and both became aware of the countless bugs that seemed to be attracted to moist bodies. She hoped they weren’t malaria carrying tsetse flies. Polly began to wonder if the trip was worth the effort, but soon knew that it was when the trees and brush ended. They came to a tiny beach. It was perfect. The bugs didn’t like the direct sunlight, walking was again easy and the trees bordered back and two sides. They could only be seen by fish in the river and the birds who cavorted on the Indian land on the opposite shore.
Prince investigated the shore line and then pulled Polly back toward the trees, where he saw a two foot turtle basking in the sun. Polly saw it before he could get to it and held him back as she didn’t want him to hurt it and she didn’t want it to hurt him,
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as it could be a snapper. It wasn’t moving and she saw no head, legs or tail. She knew that Prince would keep after it, so, with difficulty she managed to hold him just shy of the turtle, extended her foot and gave it a little nudge. It still didn’t move. She pushed it a few inches with the same result. Prince pulled as hard as he could and got to it. Polly cried; “Oh, no,”
but was quickly relieved when Prince flipped the turtle onto its back and she saw that it was only a shell.
He bit at it as he would a bone, but the shell was so hard that he made almost no headway. Challenged, he sat and continued his efforts. Polly sat next to him. Both were in direct sunlight, on the warm sand and she contentedly alternated her gaze between watching him nibble, the river and the bird land right ahead. The only sounds she heard were the water rushing over the rocks, calling birds and Prince panting as he found his chosen work much more difficult than he expected. She thought; “Finally, pure nature. I’ll call this place Turtle Island.” Time went out on strike.
Prince thought; “I can nibble on this forever and there will still be a lot left.” He kept at it until his jaws were tired and he got up to leave.
Polly rose and took three steps, but when she saw that Prince was trying to bring the shell with him, she took it from his mouth and threw it back where it was. He attempted to get it again, but
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she held him fast, saying; “I want you to have a strong incentive to come back here.”
They went back toward the mainland refreshed. They may have used the same path on which they came, but it was impossible for them to tell. They passed through the woods and simultaneously jumped into the river as Polly yelled; “Ooooooo,” feeling the cool of the water envelop her. Prince looked at her strangely and then the two proceeded back to shore, he jumping up first and then pulling her up with him.
Prince followed a bent grass, coyote path alongside the river, again refreshed and anxious to further their exploration.
After walking for five minutes, circling around a few thorned Russian Olives at the river’s edge, he came to the end of the grassy path and saw a sandy beach ahead of him. The area seemed to jut out into the water and may have recently been part of the river bed as the only vegetation was infrequent, small clumps of thin grassy plants. Huge old logs sat here and there, their weathered appearance the result of being under water for God knows how long, now being dried out in the persistent stream of sunlight.
Prince wanted a closer look at the new land. The only problem was that it was three feet below the land they were on.
He knew he’d have no trouble getting down, but worried about Polly. He went down slowly and was not held back. On the sand,
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he turned back to Polly, who was still on top. She felt adventurous and smiled. She sat on the edge and glided down as easily as if she were on a sliding pond.
Prince took her to the river’s edge, prancing in and out of the miniscule tides that kept coming and going. She knew that she was as far from the levee as she had ever been as she could easily see the Native American land across the river and could reach the area with two rock tosses. As Prince was slowly enjoying the tides she stared across the river to see if there was any activity in the forested area. She kept looking as they splashed through the shallow water until she saw something move out of the corner of her eye.
Polly came to a quick halt when she spotted a black umbrella dead ahead and moving rapidly in their direction. She said; “Uh, oh,” which Prince had come to understand meant trouble. He made a low grumble, his body went taut and he scanned the area.
The coyote woman (CW) felt that she no longer needed her protection and closed the umbrella, smiling as she approached.
Polly timidly offered; “Hi,” making no assumptions and ready for surprises. Prince relaxed when he recognized an old friend and wagged his tail making a discernible drumbeat on Polly’s left leg.
CW was enthusiastic and said; “Hi, yourself,” as she reached down to pet a happy Prince. She asked; “Is he being a good boy today?”
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Not sure to whom the query was made, Polly volunteered the answer for the hushed puppy, whose tail was now threatening to launch his body skyward, saying; “Most definitely. He’s always a good boy ...... Well, most of the time.”
CW’s eyes were beaming at Prince when she said; “Is he ready?”
Polly still wasn’t sure if CW was making baby talk to Prince, but was compelled to clarify what seemed to be a very open ended question. With a hint of trepidation she asked; “Ready for what?”
CW said; “He’s ready. I can tell.” She put two fingers in the corners of her mouth and blew out air. Polly heard nothing, but Prince’s head zoomed up looking for the source of the noise.
Finding nothing in the heavens, his gaze lowered to a disturbance in the organic debris under the cottonwoods, fifty feet away. He saw seven shy, cautious and skinny coyotes slowly emerge from their sanctuary, not making direct eye contact.
CW called; “Come on out, you big babies. Look who’s here.”
Polly tensed and prayed that Prince wouldn’t go into attack mode.
The seven kept coming, now making furtive glances and proceeded toward Prince in a slightly circuitous pattern. Prince recognized them and made a sound something like a high pitched
“Arooo,” while his tail did gymnastics worthy of an Olympian on the high bar.
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The seven coyotes approached a delirious Prince one by one, sniffing and licking his face. Prince returned the compliment to each as the humans cheerfully watched. Polly removed his chain.
Prince was surprised and felt naked, but more importantly he remembered his bad performance during his last encounter with them and how sorry he was that he made a jerk of himself. He was grateful for the unexpected second chance and vowed not to mess it up. Friends are hard to come by.
Prince also felt a bit silly as he honestly thought that dispensing of the big, white, malamute mix was an extremely easy task and also one which no one could avoid. He tried to stop thinking and just enjoy the closeness.
CW said; “They’re making him an honorary coyote,” as the group of seven all somehow managed to be no more than a foot from Prince, rubbing their bodies up against him as they slowly and continually moved.
Polly and CW’s eyes radiated as they watched Prince joyfully move his head around, wanting to touch and thank them all. For the first time Polly wished that she had a cell phone with a good camera.
CW let out another whistle which shattered the ears of the nearby canines. She said; “Sorry,” as they stopped their activities, looked at her and shook their heads as if they had just taken a dip. Out of the woodland came eight female coyotes
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with many pups in tow. They walked over at puppy pace, the little ones moving like tiny bears, as they had not yet attained full use of their legs. The females rubbed up against Prince a bit differently, lingering to make sure that he got their scent and they his. One made prolonged, inquisitive eye contact. Prince thought that she might be saying; “I like you,” and he tried to convey the same message. CW said; “That’s Esmeralda.”
The excited pups were not to be denied and soon they had gotten all the adults out of the way and jumped around their weird looking friend. They had not yet seen a white coyote with black spots. They had trouble rubbing against him as they couldn’t reach above his legs, so Prince sat down on the warm sand, rolled onto his back and the puppies climbed all over him. He gazed at Polly in disbelief, his tongue happily hanging out when there were no newborns investigating his snout.
Polly said; “I wish every day could be like this,” and Prince had the same thought.
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