A week later...

It didn't take me long at all to readjust to life back home. I have been so busy with the garden, reading books for review for Amazon (a hobby I truly enjoy: the more books I review, the more free books I get, in subjects that actually interest me) and getting ready for the upcoming academic year that I don't have time to miss the beauty of the Inter-mountain Range.

Sadie, however, seems to be suffering a little. She no longer is the center of attention and has been whining, barking and acting more restless than usual.

And Sara probably would rather not have to deal with Sadie at all. She is her usual cantankerous self: always snipping at Sadie and watching her every move. Sammy, on the other hand, enjoys playing with Sadie, chasing her around the backyard. Sadie likes that, too.

But keeping all three dogs happy all the time takes a lot of energy. Although I've walked all three dogs at once several times (Surely to the amusement of the neighborhood as I, the "Dog Lady" powerwalk past barking dogs and elderly residents who never keep their yappity dogs under control) Sadie tends to pull more on her leash and annoys the other two dogs. Alone on the leash she is good, watching me, strolling along in her typical German shepherd saunter, occasionally grabbing the leash as if wanting to chew it off her, but obediently walking along my side as if we were back in Bozeman.

I've decided to take turns walking the dogs separately. Last night I took the two old dogs out for their two-mile walk around the neighborhood, after Kevin and I stood outside in the backyard waiting for the Space Shuttle Endeavor to soar overhead, as forecasted, at 7:36pm, in a Northwest-to-Southeast trajectory as it sunk over the darkening skies of northern Sonora. It was a dark walk but the waxing halfmoon gave me enough light to see.

This morning I took Sadie around the first loop at 6:30am, but she was clearly already suffering in the 79F heat. The walk was barely a mile long. Both she and Sammy are profuse shedders, as fur around their shanks fall off in thick clumps. ("Chemo dogs" says Kevin.) The water bucket in the backyard is frequented by all three dogs quite often, with secretive visits by birds when no one is around to bother them.

I want all my animals to have happy, healthy lives. In the late evening, when I am most likely reclining on the couch and reading the latest book to review, all three dogs are normally around me, in a circle as if on sentry, watching my every move and hoping for cue words like "OK!" or "Let's go!" or "Are you ready?!" or the most emotive, "Wanna go for a walk?" The last one tends to get even the mellow Sammy in an ecstatic frenzy. The near triple-digit heat has all three dogs panting profusely and little life is observable in any of them during the peak of the day.

I may take all three dogs up into the mountains tomorrow to scout out a trail. The monsoonal rains have been infrequent this summer, clearly also stressing the garden vegetables. Lights over Naco are intriguing but with the increase, it seems, in drug and human smuggling around these borderlands, exploring these mountains alone no longer excites me.

But do I want to leave this area for a new region to call home? Kevin is clearly happy here, and is looking forward to his promotion this fall at work, a promotion he has earned through hard, dedicated work. I can not deny him that. He has a good job, close friends, and a routine he is fond of. It is I who is the proverbial restless one.