Innards Redux
Writing by treason on Friday, 27 of October , 2006 at 10:42 am
It’s been a couple months since our illustrious road trip with the dog through Middle America - The Heartland Tour - in which she sampled grass in six states, saw a woodchuck, swam in a lake, spent a day in a pontoon, went whisker to whisker with a catfish, and briefly held a toad in her mouth. Since our return to the desert the three of us have celebrated birthdays and we have made a decision.
Are we moving to the Midwest? Not quite yet. For now our job is to make sure every day is a fun day for the dog. Her favorite thing since being home is to go through a neighborhood near the river where peacocks roam. When I return to the workforce I might choose to work nights - something I haven’t done in years - just so I can be home with her during the day. It’s clear her time is limited: we want her to have as much of our attention as her ailing brother did. Now is not the time to uproot this dog.
Nor is it a good time to sell our house. For now we will work towards downsizing and reducing the amount of our “stuff.” Kansas City is still an option, but it’s not like we’re in love with the place. When we were at the vet’s office he asked if we were moving.
“Not yet. We just don’t want to uproot the dog. This is her home.”
“But what did you think of KC?”
“Well, there was much to like. Not impressed with Dodge City - they’re having gang issues.”
“Really? Hadn’t heard that.”
“But we liked Abilene -”
“Oh, I’m with you there. If you could see it around the holidays - they really get into it. It’s fantastic.”
“Pratt and Kingman were charming -”
“Oh, yeah, Pratt! I always liked Pratt. Nice little town. You know, sometimes it’s tempting to move up there so we can raise our son around the Mennonites. We wouldn’t have to worry about all this crap he has to deal with here. But…cattle freeze to death in the winter in Kansas. In all the years I’ve been here I’ve never seen that.”
We were reminded of when we were considering moving to North Dakota with our friend, Tom, who ended up in Missouri. Tom had been raised on a farm in North Dakota.
“It’s not like you’ll be able to go outside to smoke a cigarette or walk the dog. The dog won’t even want to go pee in the yard when it’s sixty below. You can freeze to death, you know. And at those temperatures it doesn’t really take that long.”
No place is perfect. Every time I watch our local news I want to call a realtor: “Just sell the thing and let me get the hell out of here!” But, if I recall, the local news broadcasts in Kansas and Missouri didn’t exactly inspire relocation.
Why is it that every time I tune into The First 48, I’m looking at dead bodies in either Kansas City, Kansas or Kansas City, Missouri? Hmmmm. I’m just wondering if this show has done for KC what COPS has done for Albuquerque.
More tomorrow…
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