Fighting battles in my mind

I don't know about you (because I never hear from you), but I imagine you get weary of me whining about the ongoing disintegration of my life. May I charitably reframe it as an ongoing adventure? An epic escapade? How about a quixotic quest? An idiotic crusade? (This is what happens when I consult a thesaurus). 

My friends have varied opinions on this journey of mine, bless their hearts. A few envy me my freedom. They are saddled with stuff, people, and obligations, so I can understand the lure of this lifestyle. (Can I call disintegration a lifestyle?) Some of my friends worry for me. Living in a car in the forest is not something they would ever contemplate. I don't think they even go camping. (Actually, after that dude got eaten by a bear, camping seems like a dumb idea.) A couple of my more metaphysical friends appreciate the chaotic nature of the universe and express faith that the road less traveled is worth traveling, no matter where it leads. 

I listen to all of them.

My Phoenix friend needed a dogsitter. It just so happened I was available. For the next several days, I'm in Phoenix, serving as caregiver for a small, wiry, somewhat nutty dog with big eyes, big ears, and a surprisingly big bark. The dog and I are friends now (or at least we were until I attempted to brush her teeth), but yesterday when I got here, it was touch and go. I thought I might have to sacrifice a toe or an ankle before I would be allowed to pass. 

It's blazing hot here so the best time to go dogwalking is early in the morning or super late at night. I think the neighborhood is pretty safe after dark, but I was told there are coyotes in the area. Last night as I was trying to relax enough to fall asleep, I mentally ran through a scenario in which a coyote attacked the dog as we sauntered through the park. I pictured myself lifting the dog over my head and kicking the coyote in the gizzard. You can imagine how it would probably go down. Not like I might hope, probably. Most likely, I would not end up being a superhero. After rehearsing my moves, I realized the odds of me kicking a coyote in the gizzard (where is a gizzard, anyway?) are slim to none. However, I would not be willing to give up the dog without a fight, so if I get rabies, send me a get well card. 

This dog is somewhat eccentric. Three times today, she indicated she would like to go out into the back yard (which is concrete and gravel). It's over 100°F today. Each time, she beelined straight for the sunniest spot on the patio and flopped down on the warm pavement. Each time, I sat in the shade to stand guard (coyotes, right?), and within moments I was boneless soup in a fancy patio chair, while the dog casually lounged in the sun. I thought at first the dog had sunstroke, but no, she just really likes the heat. She reminds me of an old lady in a sauna. She sweats out the toxins for five minutes, yawns, and moseys back inside. 

At the end of this dogsitting gig, if all goes according to plan, I will take a drive out one of the highways north of Phoenix to see some of the small towns out Sedona way. My search for home continues. However, I don't think I'll be doing any camping in the national forest. I might be willing to fight off a coyote, but I'm not up for tangling with a bear.