Hi friends, family and followers...my dog, Dolce; the golden retriever regularly the star of my photgraphy and life would like to begin sharing her stories about our travel. We hope you enjoy!
I’m Dolce ~ that means“sweet” in Italian. My mom says that to virtually every stranger when they ask my name. It’s not enough to be “Dolce”, no; I’m Dolce with an explanation!
One time, when we got stopped by the border patrol on Old Highway 80 in east San Diego County, the patrol officer saw the license plate on the RV (which is our home, we live and travel in it full-time now – and that’s another story I will tell you about later). The license plate says: DOLCES. The patrol officer asked mom “so, are you Dolce?” She chuckled and said “no, that’s her” as she reached down and pet me. When we are traveling, I like to lie just as close to mom as I can get and even sometimes prop my entire body against her lap and rest my head on the steering wheel. At times, mom’s cool with it and other times she gets a bit wound up at me and makes me go lay down. I wish I could figure out the criteria but until then, I’ll just keep trying…I am persistent that way. Mom calls me strong-willed…as if, she should talk.
So back to the border patrol guy. I think mom was nervous. The signs said they were
using working-dogs which means dogs trained to sniff out drugs. Wouldn’t that be a cool job? Usually it’s those German dogs though so I doubt I would qualify. Besides, I believe everyone is kind and loving (made in God’s image, spiritual) and their purpose is to adore me so I don’t think I’m fit for the job…don’t have the inherent personality traits they are looking for. Oh yeah, I digress again.
So mom kind of stumbled all over herself with the border guy. I don’t know, maybe mom had some of that stinky green plant stuff in the RV or something. I’m 2 and ½ and I’ve never seen her use it although I heard her talk about it and know that she thinks it’s relatively harmless and has way more grief over how alcohol is prevalently abused in our culture. She always says things like: “I wish they’d just legalize marijuana and tax it…would solve California’s economic issues” or I know she’s cool with people using it to relieve pain or symptoms from cancer or other illnesses. She thinks it’s far less toxic than synthetic pharmaceuticals. I know you’re wondering if I will ever finish telling you about the border thing. I can’t help myself, I love telling stories. They weave depth into our experiences and speak to the soul.
The border patrol guy asked mom a bunch of questions: where are you coming from? How long were you there? Where are you from? It went on forever. I could instinctively tell though, it’s not about the questions. Those border guys are highly trained at reading people, noticing every little nuance, checking out the car or RV in our case. And I suspect the 3 or 4 guys that always appear to be casually chatting on the other side of the car – they’re watching too, listening to their instincts. Mom says that’s where we hear the voice of God, our inner voice, our compass. She believes that we find the truth there.
The last question he asked her was “What country is your passport issued from?” Like duh, I could answer that. We’re American so it’s USA. Mom didn’t say anything for a
long time. I thought we were going to the slammer for sure. Separated forever from mom and locked in a 3’x4’ crate. Never seeing the wilderness again. I was out of my head, I wanted to nip at mom’s heels and answer the question myself. I can talk, obviously, I am writing now. People couldn’t handle it though so I keep it real, using my dog language and impacting them in silent ways through loving them and always being joyous. Finally, she shook off the deer in the headlights, squirrel in the middle of the road thing and said “Oh, USA” and followed that with “I got confused, I was nervous thinking you wanted my passport”. Good heavens mom, if the officer had nothing to suspect before, now he probably thought you were…what do they call it? “Stoned”. What does that really mean by the way?
One time, when we got stopped by the border patrol on Old Highway 80 in east San Diego County, the patrol officer saw the license plate on the RV (which is our home, we live and travel in it full-time now – and that’s another story I will tell you about later). The license plate says: DOLCES. The patrol officer asked mom “so, are you Dolce?” She chuckled and said “no, that’s her” as she reached down and pet me. When we are traveling, I like to lie just as close to mom as I can get and even sometimes prop my entire body against her lap and rest my head on the steering wheel. At times, mom’s cool with it and other times she gets a bit wound up at me and makes me go lay down. I wish I could figure out the criteria but until then, I’ll just keep trying…I am persistent that way. Mom calls me strong-willed…as if, she should talk.
So back to the border patrol guy. I think mom was nervous. The signs said they were
using working-dogs which means dogs trained to sniff out drugs. Wouldn’t that be a cool job? Usually it’s those German dogs though so I doubt I would qualify. Besides, I believe everyone is kind and loving (made in God’s image, spiritual) and their purpose is to adore me so I don’t think I’m fit for the job…don’t have the inherent personality traits they are looking for. Oh yeah, I digress again.
So mom kind of stumbled all over herself with the border guy. I don’t know, maybe mom had some of that stinky green plant stuff in the RV or something. I’m 2 and ½ and I’ve never seen her use it although I heard her talk about it and know that she thinks it’s relatively harmless and has way more grief over how alcohol is prevalently abused in our culture. She always says things like: “I wish they’d just legalize marijuana and tax it…would solve California’s economic issues” or I know she’s cool with people using it to relieve pain or symptoms from cancer or other illnesses. She thinks it’s far less toxic than synthetic pharmaceuticals. I know you’re wondering if I will ever finish telling you about the border thing. I can’t help myself, I love telling stories. They weave depth into our experiences and speak to the soul.
The border patrol guy asked mom a bunch of questions: where are you coming from? How long were you there? Where are you from? It went on forever. I could instinctively tell though, it’s not about the questions. Those border guys are highly trained at reading people, noticing every little nuance, checking out the car or RV in our case. And I suspect the 3 or 4 guys that always appear to be casually chatting on the other side of the car – they’re watching too, listening to their instincts. Mom says that’s where we hear the voice of God, our inner voice, our compass. She believes that we find the truth there.
The last question he asked her was “What country is your passport issued from?” Like duh, I could answer that. We’re American so it’s USA. Mom didn’t say anything for a
long time. I thought we were going to the slammer for sure. Separated forever from mom and locked in a 3’x4’ crate. Never seeing the wilderness again. I was out of my head, I wanted to nip at mom’s heels and answer the question myself. I can talk, obviously, I am writing now. People couldn’t handle it though so I keep it real, using my dog language and impacting them in silent ways through loving them and always being joyous. Finally, she shook off the deer in the headlights, squirrel in the middle of the road thing and said “Oh, USA” and followed that with “I got confused, I was nervous thinking you wanted my passport”. Good heavens mom, if the officer had nothing to suspect before, now he probably thought you were…what do they call it? “Stoned”. What does that really mean by the way?
Right now we are sitting outside in Mesa, AZ; we just got home from a hike in the Desert where I got to swim. Yeah, no joking, swimming in the desert…right??? Mom’s in a beach chair and I am sleeping on her feet. Did I say life is good? It is…sublime.
The border guy told us to have a good day and travel safely. I heard mom telling the story to a friend the other day and she said “I should have flirted with him, and said ‘sometimes’ when he asked me if I was Dolce”. Then she went on and on with her friend. Yeah mom, “sometimes” would have brought a bit of levity to it!
Let’s talk seriously about this border thing that humans have created. I don’t get it. From a dog’s perspective, I know where my home base is – it’s wherever the RV is parked. I respect the other dog’s spaces. Yeah, I come and go and wander, but like every dog, I want a good meal, fresh water, a comfy place to sleep – preferably curled up with mom, or maybe some other human friend of hers – kids are good, their faces always smell like lunch – another canine or if I am desperate I’ll even cozy up to a cat – used to have 6 of the feline types roaming around our property in CA. I love a long hike, a romp on a beach, and always lots of love and attention. It’s just that simple. Sure, a dog will give a good warning bark or a snarl if they feel intimidated by me coming into their space. That’s cool; we all know to respect it. Usually though, that protective dog will quickly change its perspective and play with me. A few sniffs, a clear agreement and it’s on! We’re having a great time. Mom moves me around so much; I have friends everywhere I go. I miss my buddy Cody right now. We stayed on his property for 2 weeks and we became soulmates…check this pic out, I know mushy but we love each other.
Mom says humans could learn a lot from us dogs. I agree. Give up the borders, put down the guns, show up with a good attitude – a willingness to be a pack (mom calls it a tribe), wag your tail, have a little fun together, be yourself, fall in love easily, share your whole heart and say goodbye with grace.
One last thought: Smile! You never know who will benefit from it
or who will smile back…smiles are contagious by the way and they feel good on
your face.
Peace out,
Dolce far niente
Mom says humans could learn a lot from us dogs. I agree. Give up the borders, put down the guns, show up with a good attitude – a willingness to be a pack (mom calls it a tribe), wag your tail, have a little fun together, be yourself, fall in love easily, share your whole heart and say goodbye with grace.
One last thought: Smile! You never know who will benefit from it
or who will smile back…smiles are contagious by the way and they feel good on
your face.
Peace out,
Dolce far niente
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