ARIZONA
We left town and in a few miles crossed the Colorado River into Arizona. Immediately is the small town of Ehrenberg. There I planned to do laundry before driving out into the desert. There is a nice laundry facility I have used before. If you have seen the academy award winning film Nomadland it is featured in the movie. I was a bit disconcerted though discovering ten machines were out of order leaving only seven operational. This would be an issue when more snowbirds arrived this winter.
Out in front of the mini-mart and laundromat I was once again disappointed. The water fill and dump station was locked up. I went into to the store to ask why. I was told too many people were using it and not paying the small fee for doing so. They shut it down a year ago. This was not good. I had a half a tank of RV water. I should have filled it back in that little RV park in Pioche but didn’t knowing this source would be here. Now I was most likely facing a twenty mile drive east to Quartzsite when I needed water. Curses!
Lastly I went to the Family Dollar in town. Lo and behold they had the little steaks I had been searching for most of the year. I told the lady about my year long quest. She said they never know what they are going to get. “In fact on my placement sheet here they don’t even have a space allotted for them anymore. We may not get anymore in.” I went back and scooped up several more fillet mignon steaks leaving one behind for someone.
We left town and drove out into the desert several miles. It is a wide open expanse like Quartzsite but differs in it is all free unlimited time dispersed camping. We last stayed there in 2018. I decided we’d do so this year instead of our usual Quartzsite stay where I had been paying a hundred eighty dollars good for six months at the Long Term Visitor Areas. Ehrenberg has less people and generally is quieter.
Around two weeks earlier I placed an order with Amazon trying to time its arrival at the Ehrenberg Post Office around the same time I predicted we would arrive. Amazon used to be a three day delivery from when you placed an order. Now it was a two week delivery, why I didn’t know. Must be another pandemic thing or new president. The order was broke up into two shipments even though I selected a slower shipping in order to have it all in one shipment. I tried. We had arrived on a Tuesday and an email notice said the package was to arrive Thursday. It would be easy for me to ride the Honda 90 into town and pick it up at the post office. I unloaded the bike on Wednesday in preparation. Come Thursday I receive an email that UPS had a problem with delivery. It was being held at the customer service center in Blythe. Darn! This meant I had to drive back over across the river and through the border crossing inspection station to get the package. Riding the Honda was not an option since I would have to be on the interstate. What a pain this turned out to be. I decided to wait until Friday for no doubt they would have an issue with package number two also. Meanwhile, what to do with the bike now that I had unloaded it. Across from us in camp was a large clump of brush. I decided to roll the bike over in amongst the bushes and lock it up. It would be safe for next to no one ever passed by our camp on the dirt road. There was like less than ten campers within sight in a several square mile area. As added peace of mind I looped a cable through the front wheel and locked it with a combination lock then covered the bike with the tarp. It now wasn’t visible from the road.
I would make the trip into Blythe worthwhile by picking up a couple items at the store, try to find a place to get some water and make an appointment with the local veterinarian. For several months Beans had been wheezing at times. I attributed it to her working up a hairball. I had been giving her a hairball relief pate for months which seem to have stopped the actual coughing up a hairball. I stopped by a vet in Challis, Idaho to inquire as to if what I was giving her was any good (it was) and if I was giving her enough or too much. The vet said I was doing right. If she developed diarrhea that would be a sign of too much. Still months later she continued with the wheezing or coughing. I had grown concerned. I decided to visit a vet for an actual hands on checkup.
The UPS center was only open for an hour from nine to ten a.m. We were in town early so I drove on to the outskirts where the Circle H Veterinarian Hospital sat. They opened at eight a.m. I went in to the small building and said I’d like to make an appointment. The odd young black man receptionist took down a thick beat up old page curled appointment book, thumbed through it and said “We have a 9:45 a.m. slot tomorrow. Would that work?” I was surprised thinking it’d be later next week before we could get in.
“Okay.”
“You’re all set for tomorrow morning then. Have a blessed day.”
Not sure if I heard him right I said ‘What?’ He repeated ‘Have a blessed day’.
“Ah...yeah” and I walked out shaking my head. Never heard that one before.
I drove away thinking Damn, another trip into Blythe right the very next day. Why that was an issue is the fact I had to negotiate two and a half miles of rocky rough road just crawling along while all sorts of gear is flying about in back just to get out of the desert onto asphalt. Oh well.
I still had time to kill for the UPS customer center to open. I went on a search for a water faucet. I kept my eye open on all buildings, gas stations, stores and even checked out a couple of city parks. Nothing. I finally pulled into an abandon shopping center near the UPS Center to wait. Just on a whim I drove around back. There it was a lonely faucet behind the abandoned Radio Shack store. I got out with pliers in hand for as usual there was no handle. I turned the stem and was pleasantly surprised when water flowed out. Cool! They hadn’t shut off water service. I hooked together two hoses which barely reached the fill port and filled the tank. This was such a relief to have a full tank of water. Now I would not have to drive to Quartzsite in a matter of weeks. Next, UPS.
I parked across the street and walked up to the front. Oh, I remember this place. I’ve been here before. The steel door was locked. That’s right; you gotta pound on the door to get their attention. Yeah, it’s weird. A guy opened the door. I gave him my name and a slip of paper with both tracking numbers on it. “Yeah, I remember the package. I have already redirected it and it’s going out on today’s truck to the post office along with today’s package.” Okay, that was good. I wasn’t upset with having made the trip into town for nothing. I did do the vet thing. I told him how another package would be arriving in a couple of weeks and I wasn’t able to stop it. He said he’d be on the lookout for it, not to worry. “The post office in Ehrenberg is real good about taking in packages.” Feeling better about my packages I went over to Smart and Final, a grocery store across from Albertsons which I have used before. I hoped their salad selection would be better. It was. By the time we left, crossed the river back into Arizona the packages had been delivered at the post office. Driving through the small town of Ehrenburg I noticed flags were at half mast. Good grief, what has happened now? I quit following the news for almost a year now so had little idea what was going on out on in the crazy world. I asked the postal clerk why the flags were at half mast. “Oh that is for the police officer that got hit by a semi-truck outside of Quartzite yesterday.” God, why did I ask? I felt bad about this and wondered if I would ever learn to not ask questions about things I may not really want to know the answer to thus undermining my whole not following the news approach to life.
We crawled along back to camp. I fixed lunch then took Beans out for a hunt.
The rest of the afternoon and evening I agonized over having to take Beans to the vet in the morning. I worried that she may have some sort of respiratory condition, which the doctor would want to run some tests, keeping her over the weekend for observation or worse. I couldn’t handle that nor could she. We’ve never been apart from one another. She would think I had abandoned her. I worried about taking her inside the office. I had no carrier. She’d be on her leash and harness. What if she freaked and I got put through the shredder? Sinbad was always good about going to the vet with just a leash and his harness. I didn’t know how Beans would be.
In the morning I was no better. We arrived at 9:30 and sat out front of the vet office in the RV observing. It suggested images of a bus station with people and dogs milling about waiting. I went inside to check in. The odd young man was there but a loud talking woman attendant waited on me. I said there were too many dogs around and before I could tell her we’d be waiting inside our home the lady suggested we wait in our car. She’d come out and get us. Great. “You’re number six in line. I’ll come get you when we have a room clean and ready.”
“We’ll be in the motor home. You can’t miss us.”
I went back to the RV. By now Beans wanted out to harass the dogs. “No Beans, I can’t deal with that now. I’m a nervous wreck.” As I watched people leave even more arrived. I saw a guy walking by with his cat by in a fold-up carrier. Then I remembered−I have one! I found it in a dumpster last year. I had forgotten all about it. Now I couldn’t remember where I stored it. I was going to start digging for it but gave up. I couldn’t deal with a search right now. Forty-five minutes later (forty-five minutes past our scheduled appointment time) I went back to check to see how much longer. I walked in and the lady saw me. “Beans, right? I was just getting ready to come out and get you.” I think they overbook their appointments. Ya think? I went back to the RV and told Beans we’re going. She got all excited. I put on her harness on a short leash and opened the door. She was out like a rodeo bull out of chute number three. I finally picked her up after locking the door. Well, here it goes. She was real good letting me carrying her all the while she was looking around at all the people and their dogs. We got ushered in room two and the woman shut the door. Whew. That went well. I let Beans wander around smelling all the strange new smells. Her tail was all fluffed out on high alert. I put her up on the table so she’d be familiar with it. She gave me a WTF look and eventually jumped down to continue exploring. She was more relaxed now. The doctor came in. God, please don’t rip into him Beans. Beans is a very vocal cat. The doctor laid a firm hand on her pressing her to the table telling her to calm down. This guy wasn’t anything like the doctor I had for Sinbad. I liked that doctor better. To give this guy credit he let Beans know who was in control and that probably was the best way for her being a tortie. He asked me what was going on. I told him and showed the hairball treatment I had been using. He said that was fine. He felt her all over and put on his stethoscope. Beans hunkered down. Then he said “Her lungs and breathing sound good.” Huge relief! He said sometime they get have an asthmatic condition brought on by the dust and such particularly with our lifestyle being in the outdoors and the desert. He said to continue what I was doing with the treatment. “Just don’t stop. People stop when they think things are better then it reoccurs.” And that was that. I took her back through the throng of people and animals in the small waiting room out to the RV, dug out $55 and went back to pay the oddball guy.
“Have a blessed day.”
Whatever.
We got the hell out of there.
By the time we were back at camp it was lunchtime. I made a sandwich then laid down for an hour falling asleep. The past twenty-four hours of stress had worn me out.
The next day I decided to do something fun and relaxing like ride Gracie around exploring old places I had been just to see what had changed over the years. Having got all the morning chores done including taking Beans for her walk, I put on my riding gear and walked over to the bushes to uncover and unlock the bike. I rolled the tumblers on the Master Lock on the bike cable to the four digit secret number. The lock didn’t open. I rolled the tumblers again. Still no open. What the hell? I tried again and again with no luck. This wasn’t just not good, this was BAD. No way could I cut through the Kryptonite cable nor the lock hasp with a hack saw for after all they are designed against that. Panic set it. I kept working the tumblers and jerking on the hasp. Finally it opened. Whew! I would clean and lubricate the lock. That is probably all it needed.
On my ride I revisited a somewhat secluded camp I knew about. It had discarded junk in the nearby wash and I was curious if it was all still the same. I wasn’t disappointed. In fact more trash had been left behind by jerk campers. Among it all were eight unopened cans of something−the labels had long since worn away in the hot desert sun. Out of curiosity I opened the pull tab lid on a can. It had the appearance of some sort of stew. The ‘best buy’ day was still a couple of years away. Wandering around I found a bowl and a water dish, both looking like for a dog. Huh! I bet that is dog food. Why would this be left behind? My guess was something happened to the dog. It ran off and didn’t come back or maybe a rattle snake bite killed it. I dumped two cans in the bowl leaving the bowl under a shady tree to see if anyone would come by and eat it. I checked the next day. It was still there. The second day after the bowl was empty. There must be one happy coyote out there somewhere with a full belly. I dumped in two more cans. I missed the next day check but the following day it was once again empty. Okay, what have I started here? I would feel bad when the food ran out. Am I going to be going to Family Dollar buying cheap dog food for this coyote? I started only dumping one can from then on.
When I returned to camp I made lunch then directed my attention to the troublesome lock. I sprayed lube in it. Everything felt better. I locked the lock. I rolled the combination. The lock would not open! I worked on it and worked on it with no luck. I gave up. I would come back to it the next day. On the next session I wound up whacking it with a hammer and the lock finally opened. The lock could no longer be trusted. Fortunately I had another similar combination lock and could use it. I thought when we drive into Quartzsite I would lock it on the chain link fence surrounding the vendor’s row. Each year I could come by and say ‘Hello’ to my lock.
One of the items in my Amazon order was a barbeque. I had been using the grill from and old Weber barbeque balancing it on several rocks. This was always awkward and so I never barbequed much. I wanted to change that. After looking at a lot of grills online I settled for one that was small−seven and a half inches square, nineteen inches high. This would suit me fine, cooking for only one person. It was designed for the backpacker. The grill was made in China (surprise!) but was well made with stainless steel and heavy gauge material. This would work well.
Another item in my order was a gauge for my small one gallon propane tank I use for the indoor heater. I bought the tank a couple years ago to save space and gave away the large five gallon tank I had been carrying around to my friend Michelle. All this time I had been trying to guess how much propane was left in the one gallon tank by shaking it or estimating the weight. A couple times I did run out. I always kept one of those little green Coleman canisters on hand for those times as backup. I had originally got on Amazon looking the tape one sticks to the side of a propane tank. The tape changes color at the level of the propane inside due to temperature difference. This is what I had on the tank in our first camper way back in the late 70’s. Well gee; I didn’t know there were actual gauges now. I guess I should be embarrassed admitting to that but at this stage in my life I don’t care. This little gauge would be handy to have.
Several years back a nomad travel friend posted a video on her YouTube channel about her dashboard camera. She had been following friends on the interstate and captured this idiot guy driving a U-haul truck sideswiping their truck and camper. I think her video led to his identity, but it got me to thinking: Gee, maybe I should have a dash camera. All those years and thousands of miles traveling with Sinbad I had nothing. I wound up rigging my old prehistoric GoPro camera to work as a dash camera. This worked great these past few years traveling about with Beans. This year while up in Montana and Idaho the old GoPro began acting up. Sometimes it would stop filming for no reason. I wouldn’t discover this until arriving at our destination go to turn the camera off finding it was already off. I fought with this all through Idaho. Sometimes it was fine and sometimes not. It finally got so unreliable that by the time we were in Nevada I gave up on it. It too could no longer be trusted. I felt vulnerable driving those last few hundred miles down to our Arizona winter destination. I tried to educate myself on dash cameras in the meantime. There are a lot of them out there, most requiring a separate purchase of a SD memory card. One camera came with a card, was small, looked fairly simple and had lots of good reviews. I placed an order. It arrived a couple days after the big Amazon order package. This time UPS was on the ball and dropped it off at the post office.
That day to go pick it up I took the Honda. I had made a blog post about my troubles on finding water. A fellow nomad traveler left a comment with details on where water could be found near where we were and not have to go across the river into California and Blythe. She had been staying in this area for her winters for the last few years. She said there were two faucets at the Flying J truck stop which was only four miles from camp. I rode over to the truck stop to check it out and sure enough there they were, both fairly well hidden too. I don’t know how she ever found them. I never thought of checking at the truck stop since I usually don’t go to them for any reason. I would have to change my ways in the future. I crossed over the interstate and on a whim thought I would search the large Union service station and mini mart complex. No faucets anywhere until I went to pull back out onto the frontage road. There all by itself next to a natural gas line was a faucet down at ground level. It worked. This one would be even easier to access than the Flying J faucets. I picked up my package and a half a gallon of milk at the Family Dollar across the street. To my amazement Family Dollar got in a shipment of meats! Good deal. I picked up some pork chops and boneless pork ribs. There would be more barbequing for sure.
I waited to the next day to deal with the dash camera. First thing was it was smaller than I expected, smaller than a pack of cigarettes, which was nice. I didn’t want some wide-screen IMAX movie theatre device up there on the windshield. The instruction pamphlet was okay nevertheless the set-up procedure and all the options were a challenge, at least for me. I’m sure it was a pretty simple affair for most people. I didn’t understand some of the terminology or what the various function actually did nor how I should set them for my simple needs. I had also bought a hardwire power supply set-up so it could be connected to the fuse box instead of the cigarette light port which I was already using for the GPS. I wanted to eliminate as much wiring as I could dangling down from the windshield. A lot of time was wasted in this hardwire set-up. I had a couple fuse slots empty. Each tested hot when the key was turned on but didn’t turn on the camera as it should. It made no sense for the camera turned on fine when plugged into the cigarette light or even using the old GoPro power cable. I eventually used a cigarette plug-in cord supplied with camera that was long enough to reach all the way into the back into a plug-in port in a cabinet by the TV I never use. This was nice. I liked this arrangement better. So I bought the hardwire kit ($15) for nothing. Maybe someday I’ll come across someone that could use it. Back to the camera set-up; I quit before becoming too frustrated. The next day I Googled some terms, reviewed the Amazon site reading questions and answers generally educating myself. Finally I graduated from Dash Camera 101. I felt I had it set up and knew how to work the darn thing. I would put it to the test on my next drive into Blythe for groceries.
The day of the test came sooner than I wanted. Propane was getting low. I would have to go fill it up. To make the effort of breaking camp worthwhile I would grocery shop (again) and top off the water tank while at it. We were underway on a Tuesday morning at eight thirty doing the slow two mile crawl out the rough dirt road before hitting pavement. Immediately is the Flying J truck stop where I would get propane but I decided to do the grocery shopping over the border in Blythe first, fill up with water then do propane last on the way back. The two main grocery stores in town, Albertsons and Smart and Final, are across the street from each other. I hit up Smart and Final first for I usually had better luck with what I needed there. Then across the road over to Albertsons for a few other items, mainly better choices of quality like cottage cheese for example. Still after both stores I was unable to check off everything on my list. Items were unavailable or I had to settle for lesser known brands such as the bagels and hot dogs. Stores shelves had a lot of empty spaces. I knew there were delivery issues going on in the country in spite of the fact I ceased following the news. Some news media stuff just slips through. I hit up two dollar stores and never was able to get the flavor of Gatorade I wanted. Only at the last store was able to get kitty litter. The country must be in pretty bad shape if kitty litter becomes scarce. There must be a pig shortage going on in addition. No Jimmy Dean sausage. I searched everywhere for hairball remedy for Beans, even the ACE Hardware store on the advice of a store clerk. There are no pet stores anywhere around for a hundred miles. I wound up driving all the way back to the vet hospital office on the outskirts of town where I was finally able to get a tube. I was not blessed as I left the office this time.
By now I needed to eat. I went to Burger King again thinking of a Whopper and vanilla shake. Again they had no product for shakes. “Just cancel the order” and I walked out. I decided to go to Carl’s Jr. a block down the road. “Sorry, we don’t have any product for shakes. It didn’t come in on the truck.” Unbelievable! This milk shake issue was unacceptable. I went ahead with the burger because the body jitters were beginning to set in. I needed to eat now. The girl at the counter suggested I go next door to Jack in the Box for my shake. Yeah, I might just do that. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to go elsewhere to get a milkshake. For as long as I had to wait for my burger order I could have walked over Jack and got my drink, that’s on the premise they had “product” and still returned in time to hear order number forty-two be called. Instead I stood there listening to the god-awful racket coming out from the Bose speakers directly overhead at an ear deafening volume. Add to that the too loud mind numbing music in both grocery stores I had just been in. I feel bad for employees who have to listen to that noise all day long. I stood there watching the long line roll by the drive-up window at Jack in the Box and had resigned myself to It’s not worth it. I did without. I dug out a soda from the frig once back in the RV. I enjoyed my burger which was better than the Whoppers I had been buying. I decided I was done with Burger King and would return as a Carl’s customer once again.
As I ate I planned my next plan of action getting the propane. Gee, I should have got the propane at Ace Hardware while I was there. I drove back to Ace which was only a mile. “Oh, we can’t fill RV tanks here. Go to the Shell station or the Flying J. That’s the only two places that do that.” I recall seeing the Shell station on my way to the hamburger joints. I drove back and pulled up to the tank. $3.89 a gallon. Typically in this area over in Arizona it is $2.30. Should I or shouldn’t I? Hell, I’ll go to the Flying J. I’m done with California. Back across the river and in Arizona once again we immediately pulled off for the truck stop. I pulled up to the huge propane tank. A white piece of paper was taped to a metal pole: OUT OF PROPANE. Are you kidding me?! I couldn’t believe my eyes. What to do? It’s wasn’t like I could do without or be buying some unknown lesser quality brand of food; I needed propane to keep the refrigerator running. I decided to go inside and ask when the truck would be coming, if they even knew. I’d be good for a couple of days. I would have to just make that slow rough road drive once again. The place was a madhouse inside. I had to get in a long line just to ask a simple question. As I stood there I thought Shit! I didn’t lock up. Beans is out there. There are questionable people milling around. I stepped out of line and hustled back to lock up the RV. Back inside the store once again the line was just as long as I left it but with a different selection of customers. The line moved fairly fast. I got to ask my question. “We really don’t really know when the truck will come.” She suggested the same Shell station back in Blythe. I asked what their price was when they do have propane. $3.69−only twenty cents less. I should have bought it there while in Blythe. Drat!
I drove over to the Union station on the other side of the highway to fill up the water tank from my secret faucet. At least that went well. With that done I put myself into a sense of tranquility and resignation peacefully driving back into California. We once again passed through the inspection station where the border guards couldn’t care any less just waving us on through. Finally we arrived back at the Shell station several miles later. No one was there except for one customer at a gas pump. The attendant came right out and was pleasant. To hell with the insanity of the Flying J; I’ll gladly pay twenty cents more per gallon for this experience.
At last we were done and returned to our home site, five and a half hours later after thirty-five miles of driving in circles. All the while I was thinking that my grumpiness was all due to my lifestyle. It is of my own undoing. I am so used to be being isolated, alone, surrounded in peace and quiet that when I immerse myself into the normal everyday life style that the majority of people live it is stressful to me. With these current supply delivery problems going on in the country no doubt others deal with worse than what I do. I sure could have used that vanilla shake to help me get through it all.
Two weeks had passed since we went to the country vet. Beans was no better. If anything she was worse with the coughing hacking and wheezing. I had to do something and it wasn’t going back to that vet in Blythe. I got online and found the nearest animal doctor option was in Yuma, Arizona, a hundred miles to the south. There were five vets in Yuma. The first two I called were booked out with appointments two weeks away. Both though recommended I call Foothills Animal Hospital and so I did. Nice lady Lauren said could I bring Beans in at 7 p.m. that evening which would cost thirty dollars more for a consulate being after hours, or call the next day and try to get a same day appointment. What’s thirty dollars to get Beans looked at right away? I said I’d take it. We had over six hours to work with. I loaded the Honda up on the rack with no problems and began breaking camp stowing away gear for the long drive ahead. Just as I was ready to pull out I saw Beans five pound lead weight and long lead setting out there on the rocks. Oh my! I would have been so upset having left that behind. I always do a walk around and knock on the inner rear tires before a leaving a place. I somehow overlooked her lead weight as she had dragged it out away from camp. We were underway by one-thirty enjoying a pleasant drive to Yuma arriving at three-thirty. I knew I wouldn’t have enough fuel to get back to Ehrenberg. I decided to deal with that now rather than in the morning. I pulled in to a Speedway (I have used them many times always having a good price) which had diesel at $3.99. I couldn’t get the pump to work and finally had to go inside and leave my card, this is after moving over and trying a second pump which failed. I never did understand what the problem was but whatever, that chore was done. Pulling out I look across the boulevard. The Chevron was $3.69. How did I not see that!! There were two more stations nearby at the same price. I was really irked. I could have avoided all that hassle plus saved six dollars to boot. Five and a half miles later we were at the animal clinic. By now I was able to calm myself down from the fuel up misdeed. I went inside. Nice place. I told them we were here for our seven o’clock appointment. “We’re in a motor home. Is it okay we’re parked out in back in the employees only parking area? We can’t fit out front.” She said that was fine. “Just be careful of the soft sand or you’ll get stuck for sure.” I said I saw it and we’re good. “Say, if you get a cancelation give me a call and we’ll be right in.” Lauren said that sounded great. Two hours later, not yet six p.m. the phone rang. They had a ‘no show’. “We’ll be right there.”
By now four hours had elapsed since Beans had her last hacking heaving fit and she hadn’t so much as wheezed since. Of course! That’s just fine. Now you’re better. We were led into an exam room and sat there on the bench to wait. Beans wandered around exploring. After a bit the veterinarian lady came in. Lynette was a young woman with piercings and tattoos, one of which was an anatomically correct image of a heart most likely a small animal, dog or cat, on her forearm very nicely done. She was nice. She greeted Beans with a few pets and scratches under her chin. Right away I knew I liked this place and the staff a lot better. She powered up the wall mounted computer and began asking me questions about Beans and what she’s been dealing with. Her fingers danced on the keyboard as she wrote down what must have been pages of information. I was impressed. She pulled out a small scale to get her weight. Now Beans has never been picked up by anyone except me. I didn’t know how this was going to go but she did fine allowing Lynette to handle her. She sat Beans on the scales. Beans wanted off. Lynette at least got a reading−nine point three pounds. When she went to lift Beans up from the scales she reached out with her paw which activated the automatic paper towel dispenser mounted on the wall. The machine whirred spitting out a paper towel. Beans freaked and went ballistic. “Just let her go” I said. I didn’t want the woman injured. Beans fell to the floor and ran back over near me getting back up on the bench we had been sitting on. She immediately began coughing hacking and wheezing. “There! She’s doing it.” I was so happy the doctor got to actually see what I was trying to describe. She typed in a bunch more information. “That was good to see. I’ll go get the doctor and we’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I thought you were the doctor.”
“Oh no, I’m the veterinarian tech.” Well she had me fooled for she was that professional.
Beans and I sat there on the bench. She had calmed down now. “I’m so glad you demonstrated your cough for the doctor. That was a good girl.” I had to laugh at reviewing the paper towel dispenser fright scene in my mind. Not funny Dad!
After a bit Lynette returned with Nikki the actual veterinarian doctor. She was young woman also (well everyone seems young to me) minus the tattoos and piercings. She may have had them but she was wearing a light jacket as it was a bit on the cool side in there with the air conditioner going. Lynette lightly held Beans in place on the table while Nikki checked her over. She spent ten times longer with the stethoscope listening to Beans in more places on her body than that doofus doctor in Blythe. The two women were more gentle and kind with Beans than him. I told them so when she was done listening. That guy proved to be a complete waste of time and money.
Nikki said Beans sounded good and appeared to be in good health. She would like to do a complete radiograph x-ray, some blood work and other tests “…just to see what really is going on and not miss something.” I told her I would expect that yet the Blythe vet never brought it up. “He’s the professional; who am I to tell him how to do his job?” She said they would print up a cost estimate and come back to go over it with me.
“Money’s not a concern when it comes to my cat. Just do it.”
Lynette returned shortly anyway with a paper in hand explaining the procedures to me with the fees noted. By eyes went to the bottom line−$990. I tried not to cough, hack or wheeze. I expected around half that but oh well, it’s Beans. When it came to the care and well being of the most important individual in my life I didn’t care about cost. I recovered quickly and paid attention to Lynette. I signed the paper. She said she’d be right back with a blanket for Beans to take her in back. “We spray some calming potion on a towel and will wrap her up like a burrito.”
“So I don’t have to watch you take blood from her?”
“No, we do everything in back.”
I was glad for that not having to watch needles and seeing my cat stressed as I have with Sinbad and other cats I had taken to vets over the years.
She said it would be about twenty-five minutes. I asked if I could go back outside to the RV and maybe she could call to tell me when they are done.
“Sure, I can do that. Can I get you anything?” I guess I looked like I needed something after seeing my little Beans burrito being carried away from me.
“Do you have some water?” Lynette returned with a chilled bottle of water. I thanked her and went outside. It was now dark out. I had the bottle empty before reaching the RV. I was so stressed with having to leave Beans. I busied myself with putting things away and getting ready to leave when we were finished. Soon the phone rang. I could come back and get her.
“She did fine. She only hissed once.” That’s my girl. She said it would be about a half an hour before all the test results were completed. I asked if I could take her back to the RV. She said that would be fine adding that Beans would probably be more comfortable back in her home.
“I think she has to pee” I said. Lynette said probably so as her bladder appeared pretty full. I once had a cat, Ramona, pee in my lap as we sat in a waiting room. We went back to the RV. Beans let me know right away, “I’m hungry!!” She didn’t have to pee; she wanted to eat! I thought that not a bad idea myself and had some cookies and milk. There is nothing better than cookies and milk to calm oneself down.
Later the phone rang. I could come back in and didn’t need to bring Beans with me. Nikki and Lynette came in to the exam room. “Everything looks good.” That is the best way to start out a report on your pet’s condition. They fired up the wall mounted computer. All of Beans’ test results were there to see on a chart. Every item from the blood and urine samples read in the ‘normal’ column. Nothing was ticked in the ‘high’ or ‘low’ columns. There were no signs of exposure to feline leukemia, or other viruses. She pulled up the x-ray, three views. This was fascinating to see. While Nikki explained what I was looking at and how it should appear (which it did) I saw something. That couldn’t be. “What is that?” I interrupted pointing to what looked like a grain of rice.
“That’s her microchip.”
“She’s been micro-chipped?”
“You didn’t know?”
“The people I adopted her from didn’t tell me.” I asked if it could be scanned for I could update the information to myself. She felt I could. She would check with the techs in back for me. I apologized for interrupting and allowed her to continue.
“Oh that’s okay. I’m glad you know.”
She now focused on the lungs which looked good. She pointed out some tiny little circles which I would never have noticed saying they shouldn’t be present. “These are indicative of an asthmatic condition which is what it appears Beans is dealing with. We can run some steroids through her, she’s healthy and strong. They won’t be a concern; just some pills twice a day for five days then a once a day to taper off for ten more days. That should clear it up. Then you can get her an over the counter histamine if she ever has a seasonal flare-up. This is something simple you can get at any drug store. It’s a people antihistamine.”
The only other concern she had was a backup in Beans large intestine. She pointed out one turd ready to be launched from the portal but there was a gap a ways back to a traffic jam further on in all of which was plain to see on the image. I asked if the hairball remedy might move it along and she felt so. “Just keep an eye on her bowl movements. If nothing happens in forty-eight hours we could give her an enema. It might work its way through.”
So Beans got a clean bill of health. I went back outside to get Beans to have the microchip scanned to get the number. Going back into that building Beans wasn’t too happy about. Lynette scanned her at the front desk. I let Beans wander around in the lobby dragging her leash. No one else was in there. Marie at the counter printed up the bill. $761−$229 less than the estimate. That was nice. Even more so was learning Beans is a healthy ‘middle-aged’ cat and has an indentifying implant. I thanked everyone for their kindness and appreciation for all they did. With a bottle of pills in hand we left the facility. We only had to drive six miles north of town to the VFW camp area where we have stayed before a couple times in the past. It was now nine p.m. I was worn out. I guess Beans was too. The next morning there was a long piece of dookie in Beans’ litter box. Everything worked out fine. Ten days and twenty pills later Beans was all well.
Staying at the VFW dispersed camp area is fine−for a single night. There is a small municipal airport directly behind the camp area. Why do people want to fly their private aircraft at oh-dark-thirty at night disturbing my sleep? Then there are the train tracks directly across the highway. At least they weren’t blowing their air horns. Beans didn’t like them regardless. She would dive down into her hidey-hole every time a train came rumbling by.
We left mid-morning to return to our northern camp stay area. When we passed through Quartzsite on our way to Yuma I was able to see how few snowbirds were at the long term visitor stays. On our return trip I decided to stop at Road Runner a fourteen-day stay camp area south of the LTVAs; a place we have stayed at many times over the years. The past two years they didn’t have a camp host monitoring Road Runner. No one had volunteered. This year there was a host. I stopped and filled out the permit form, a free of charge formality. The first place we parked was near some shade trees which would be ideal for the late afternoon sun. I noticed all the rodent holes around the area. That might be a problem. That evening I barbequed some pork chops and threw the wrapper out the door. As the sun went down I had Beans on her long lead hooked up to the RV while I cleaned up inside. Finally she wanted in. Not soon after I heard the crinkling of plastic and looked outside. The wrapper was gone. Oh my, it must have been a coyote that took it and Beans was out there only moments earlier. That was stupid. Just a couple days earlier I had received a message from my friend Michelle who was camped in the LTVA camps. Her cat was outside on a lead and a coyote came by eyeing her. She rushed her cat inside. Michelle was quite upset. This wore on me for having made the same error. I knew better. With all those rodent holes this must be what attracted the coyote to this area. The next morning we moved about a quarter mile away on the other side away from his evening buffet. The new spot was nice, rodent hole free and Beans got in some good lizard hunting. That evening I set some leftover meat bits outside. Beans alerted me to something going out the door. I switched on the light. Outside stood a cute little grey desert fox. That was who took the pork chop package, not a coyote. I felt better but would still follow safe practice measures for Beans.
While at this new spot along Pipeline Road I changed the oil in the RV. The trip to Yuma had pushed it over the 140,000 mileage mark−the next scheduled oil change. I had the oil on hand from that excruciating shopping episode in Las Vegas. There was no sense in putting it off. I had a nice flat area to work on. I do my own oil changes. I don’t trust anyone else to do it correctly, especially millennials with poor work ethics at a Jiffy Quik Lube shop that do a half-ass job with inferior oils. I have done several on-the-road oil changes already so I have it pretty much down with no mess or issues. My first on-the-road change was in a campground in Missouri. I had purchased an oil drain basin from Walmart. The first time using the catch basin I had forgotten to open the vent cap. The oil drained onto the basin but couldn’t flow inside freely with the vent closed off. I had a Exxon spill oil mess. That would not ever happen again. I took my time. The whole job was done including cleaning up and putting things away in ninety minutes. No mess or dripage either. I poured to the used oil back into the two large five quart containers and planned to take it to the land fill north of town.
A phone call the next morning revealed the landfill didn’t recycle oil. I would have to go with my original plan of taking the dirty oil to one of the auto parts stores in Blythe the next time we were over there. We went into Quartzsite six miles away anyway that day to do a bit of grocery shopping then returned to Road Runner. This time to another new spot for some people in a large class A motor home had moved in close to where we originally were. They would run their generator way too often. Sound carries in the quiet of the desert. And who do you suppose visited us there at our new even farther away camp? Yep, the little fox came by again that first evening.
Several days passed. I got into reorganizing things like I do sometimes. The only bad part in doing this is when I go to look for something that I know where it has been for months or years, it isn’t there. Now where did I move it to? I was organizing my food stuffs in the pantry (the shower stall) and pulled out a large tin of cooked ground beef I picked up at the scratch and dent tent in Quartzsite a couple years back. The ‘best by’ date was no longer legible. Rather than risk another gut issue I opened it up and scooped out half onto a flat rock near the fire ring. The next morning it was gone−all twelve ounces of ground beef. The rock was licked clean. I couldn’t imagine the little fox eating that much meat, but he did. I put the remaining half of the can out that night. The next morning we were going to move to a new location. The rock was licked clean.
During this time being settled once again I went about trying to change the information to Beans’ newly discovered microchip over to my name. I had the long number from the scan Lynette gave me. With that I could go onto this particular site online, plug in the number and it would tell me what company the microchip was registered to. It turned out to be 24-Hour Pet Watch. I called the number. Nice guy Robert answered. I explained my situation and what I had discovered. Robert said this would be no problem. All I needed to do was email a copy of the adoption papers to him proving that Beans was now my cat. Well that was a problem. I had no adoption papers. I got her through a Craigslist add from a family who didn’t want her anymore. “I have papers from the Vet, will that do?” He said that would be fine. He just needed a statement written on their letterhead verifying Beans belonged to me. I contacted the vet. The receptionist said she would forward the request on. A couple days later not hearing anything I contacted them. It seemed someone higher up said they couldn’t do that as they had no proof either. Now what? I called Robert back. I asked about who the number was registered to. He said he couldn’t divulge that private information. Okay. Can you tell me where the microchip was implanted at? I wanted to know if we had that right number and the right cat. He said in Santa Rosa, California. “Good. That is where I am from. Can you at least tell me what city the cat lived in?”
“Aww, sorry John but this is being recorded. I am limited to just how much information I can reveal.”
“Okay, can you at least say if it was Rohnert Park? Yes or no?”
“Hmm…” was his reply with the inflection that I had the right city.
“Well Robert, I am pretty concerned about this. If for some reason she was lost then found they are going to be directed to the people who didn’t want her. They have no way of contacting me.”
“I understand.”
I already dug back into my old computer files. I found a copy I saved of the original Craigslist ad. The contact with the owner was made through Craigslist. The ad itself did not have a phone number. I had previously sent these copies to Robert as my only proof.
“Here Robert, you obviously are looking at these people’s information and phone number is right in front of you. Can you call them up and ask them if they gave away a female tortoiseshell cat on April 9, 2017 to an old man in a RV at the PETCO parking lot on Santa Rosa Avenue in Santa Rosa.” He said he couldn’t call that day for some reason. He lived in Canada and for whatever reason was unable to make calls out.
A couple days passed and I emailed him. He got right back to me saying he was just starting his day and was ready to contact me. On the phone he said we could set Beans up under my name. Hallelujah! I didn’t question if he called the people (I assumed he did since we were on a “go”) or what they said if he did talk with them. I just didn’t care. I was simply elated it could be done and Beans would soon officially be registered to me. I had to pay $29.95 to have the information changed over. Robert tried to sell me a lifetime subscription membership with a bunch of offers and perks that I couldn’t take advantage of living the way we do. I said I’d think about it. I just wanted this to be over with, a process that lingered on for the better part of the week not knowing if it could even be accomplished in the end. Each night I laid in bed thinking what if…?
Where we were at, Road Runner was a fourteen-day stay camp area. During the first two weeks I noticed a BLM truck pass by. Now not that he can possibly remember every camper out in the desert and keep track of their presence for fourteen days, I nevertheless felt it best to move elsewhere. Besides, a change of scenery is welcome. The regulations state you must move to a new place twenty miles or more distant. Going back to Ehrenberg isn’t twenty miles. All the other camps around Quartzsite are not either. At any rate I doubt everyone follows the rule. There is absolutely no way for the BLM to keep track of the hundreds upon hundreds of campers out here in an equal number of acres in the desolate desert landscape. The main reason for this regulation I believe is to keep people from “homesteading”−setting up an elaborate semi-permanent camp ultimately trashing the land. We moved a couple ravines to the south where I could still see our old Fox Camp location. This had less traffic going by (we had been right along Pipeline Road) not that there was all that much before but at least if a BLM ranger wanted to go from point A to point B he wouldn’t be passing by this new location.
Whenever I needed to go into town six miles to the north, I would hit up Family Dollar, the water machines, and then drive over a couple blocks to Roadrunner (they spell it different) Grocery store for produce and maybe a few items not found at the dollar store. Next would be to drive to the other end of town (only a couple of miles) to hit Dollar General. Between all three stores I could usually find everything on my shopping list. On one such trip a woman just leaving Dollar General in her big truck and camper waved at me through her front windshield as I stepped out of the RV. Do I know this person? I walked on over. She buzzed down her window. I met Luthe (not Ruth as I thought what I heard) from Illinois. She wanted to compliment on the Little House on the Highway telling me that was what she originally wanted to get. Evidently this huge four-door Dodge four-wheel drive truck with a Palomino camper came up and was too good of a deal to pass up. What she had looked like new, or at least it had been well cared for by the previous owner. She was just starting out planning on making this a permanent lifestyle. She was enjoying herself and loved her home even if it wasn’t what she thought she’d wind up with. We visited for a bit but soon traffic backed up trying to get into the parking lot she was blocking.
I went in the store mainly to check out the cat food. My usual brand of food for Beans these past few years was Tiki Cat, a grain free food recommended to me by a Pet Smart employee in Idaho long ago. This was after I mentioned to her the difficulty I had been having finding the brand I usually bought for Beans since I adopted her. Well now these days Tiki Cat just wasn’t available either from Amazon or Chewy. It comes from Thailand and like everything else coming here from the Far East; it is sitting out there on container ships floating off the west coast of America waiting for the supply line to be on the move once again. This new administration in Washington…I’ll say no more. Anyway, I had been picking up various brands of homegrown quality cat food (mostly Fancy Feast) here and there trying them out on Beans. She loved them. I found a few more test foods at Dollar General.
At the checkout I got to talking with Rita the cashier, a petite older lady around my vintage. She commented on the variety of cat food I was buying. With store shelves empty everywhere I told her I would eat most anything but when it comes to my sweet Beans, only the best will do. She agreed. She said she moved here to Quartzsite a year ago (I remembered her from last year) and at the time she only had her little dog with her. She said “One day I came across a near dead starving dog in the desert. I brought it home.”
“Oh, you’re a good person. Did he live?” I asked.
“Yes, he recovered and is such a great dog.” She dug out her phone, scrolled through the photos and handed it to me. I was looking at a beautiful short red hair hound dog with pale blue eyes. As I viewed the photo she continued on with her story. “When my son was murdered…” Okay, that stopped me right there. I lost track of her story unable to focus thinking of her son being murdered? She said it took her six years to get over it to some degree. “My son had red hair and blue eyes. I think maybe he sent this dog to me. He gives me hugs all the time.” By now some other customers had formed a line behind me. I said goodbye to Rita, handing her phone back to her. No one should ever have to endure the pain and heartache of losing a child but having done so by murder was incomprehensible to me, especially for a sweet little lady like Rita.
We were approaching the end of the year. I had been reviewing this year’s journal going through doing a final edit before sending it off to be published into another new eBook. One morning I went to turn on my old Sony laptop to resume the editing and inputting some of our latest adventures. The laptop wouldn’t turn on! I tried again and again pushing the startup button. Nothing. Dead. This was disastrous! A whole year of journaling, everything you have read up to this point was now inaccessible, lost. I was just sick. I tried Googling the problem coming up with no solutions. I removed the battery and put it back in. Still nothing. Panic was setting in. What to do? Out of desperation I sprayed some of my electric contact cleaner on the connections on the battery, in the battery port on the computer and the plug-in for the power supply. I didn’t expect anything to come out of this yet miraculously the laptop came to life when I pushed the button!! My relief was incalculable. This really made no sense for later I tried turning it on without the battery installed and not plugged into the power supply and yet it started up. I never understood it. Needless to say it took me awhile to recover from this traumatic event. Like the GoPro camera, the combination Master Lock, the Sony laptop could not be trusted. I needed some safeguards. Maybe the old Sony bought in 2009 was dying. I use it because it came with a Microsoft Word processor program. My newer Toshiba laptop has no word program. I needed to install Microsoft Word in the newer Toshiba for a backup. Long ago I looked into doing this but the cost of the program was close to two hundred dollars. Not worth it since I already had it in the old Sony. Now that all had changed. I studied what was out there. One program, Microsoft Word 365 was a yearly subscription fee of $99 with upgrade options and the like. I didn’t need that. I wanted basic without all the fancy stuff, like what I was used to. The other option was a one-time fee of $149−Microsoft Word Home and Student− with no upgrades in the future. This happened to be on sale for $99, offer expiring at the end of the week. I agonized over this for days. Why? For one, the Toshiba has been picky over the years in downloading programs rejecting many because it thinks the program has a virus. What if I press the nonrefundable fee button to download and the computer says “Uh-uh!” What if my connection is so weak out here in the desert using my iPhone as a hot spot to be online that it fails? What if I can’t figure out how to install it? What if it isn’t what I think it is in the word processor program now have and wanted. I won’t list all my other “what if’s”. Just know I don’t have much confidence in my minuscule computer knowledge or abilities. That Friday morning with only one day left on the one third off deal I decided I would go for it. If I lost $99 because the laptop thought it had a virus, I lost $99. If it takes all day to download on my weak connection, so be it. What else did I have to do? I got online, made the commitment and clicked on the download button after verifying my credit card. The nausea began. The armpits perspired. Then slowly the download began. After ten minutes or so it read DOWNLOAD COMPLETED. It worked! Thirty some minutes from starting all this I had Microsoft Word Home and Student installed on the Toshiba laptop. I was relieved but also in a daze. I now had a second backup word processing tool for my journaling and eBook publishing. I would continue using the Sony for I like the 2007 version of Microsoft Word better. From now on each day after working on the document I would save my work to a memory stick. I could then transfer the document into the Toshiba laptop and continue on if the Sony ever went belly-up for good.
I swear, this type of trauma could cause me to take up drinking!
A week later after all that trauma it was time to make another trip into town hitting up all the usual places in order to tick off every item on my shopping list. Just about done we stopped at the Union station to buy a gallon of gas for the Honda−$4.09. Off at the other end of the line of gasoline pumps was an old Ford truck and camper. It looked like a set-up we had back in the 70’s, same color too−pumpkin orange. I had to go over there and visit. They were a couple in their sixties I’d guess. I walked up.
“Seeing your truck and camper brought back memories for me. We had one similar, even the color. It was a 1976. What year is yours?”
The man smiled and said it was 1977. Their truck had an extended cab though. In the back window was a handmade cardboard sign about some destination in Baja, California. I continued on with my story.
“We bought it brand new and added a new Vacationeer camper. Had big plans for family vacations we did. One of those was a trip down to southern California to take the kids to Disneyland. We next went to Knott’s Berry Farm. At the end of the day we returned to the parking lot. The truck was gone. Stolen.” The woman’s jaw dropped. “We got the truck back eventually. Not the camper. It was a ring of thieves stealing trucks just for the campers. They caught the people and sent them away.” I wasn’t done yet.
“We didn’t replace the camper. I went with a camper shell. Thought we would go back to tenting as the kids were older now. We planned a trip to Lake Powell in Utah. Was going to tow our little boat there and explore the lake camping here and there along the shoreline. Before leaving I took the truck into the shop to have new mufflers installed before the trip. There was a gasoline leak. It caught fire during the welding. The whole shop burned down.” Now the guy’s jaw dropped.
“The entire shop?” he asked.
“Yep. I don’t think it was meant that we have that truck.”
“Did the insurance cover replacing the truck?’ he asked
“Well yeah, sort of. You know how that goes with insurance companies. It was a battle.”
“What did you do then?” he wondered.
“I thought about getting something like a Ford Bronco continuing on with tent camping. I wound up buying a 1971 Land Rover from Craigslist. A change of life for me that was. I ended up being into Land Rovers for the next twenty-some years. Good times and great adventures. Even did a trip all the way down Baja in a 1967 Land Rover. I see the sign in your window. That where you are heading?’
The guy said they were and the lady had a worried smile on her face. She asked if the View was ours.
“Yep. Just me and my pussycat now, full time on the road. Well have a good trip” and I walked back to the Little House on the Highway. I sat inside watching them drive away thinking Maybe I said too much. Now they’ll be thinking for the rest of the day on down to Yuma. I smiled. I’m awful. We pulled out for the Dollar General store at the other end of town.
Dollar General was in bad shape. The shelves were barren for the most part. I wandered down the pet food lane just to see what there was to be had. There was little to choose from. I was able to finally find a box of cereal that wasn’t sugar coated crap. All the stores carried mostly sugary cereals. I didn’t understand that. There are hardly any children out here to have that much of a market for kiddy cereals. Do grownups eat that stuff? With my box of Life cereal in hand I walked up to the checkout. There was a short line. As I stood there I slowly turned around. I saw myself twenty years from now standing behind me. He was a little old man, cane hanging from his arm as he cradled a half a dozen cans of cat food in his arms. That was all that he was buying, cat food. I said to him “I see you were able to get some food for your kitty. There isn’t much to choose from here.”
He looked up to me, thought for a moment then agreed. “Yes, it is a problem.”
I told him like I told Rita, “I’ll eat most anything but when it comes to my pussycat I worry about not being able to find food for her.”
He thought again. He said he didn’t know what he was going to do. Seeing he most likely was least ninety years old I wondered if he was computer orientated in any way. I took a chance.
“You could go online and buy cat food.”
He surprised me in saying he was thinking about that. I told him about Chewy.com, spelling it out for him. “They have always provided well for me and my kitty.” He appreciated that information and thanked me. I moved on ahead to the cashier, paid for my cereal and went back out to the RV. I thought about the little old man. He had made a special trip out just to get food for his cat; that was all. That would be me. I hope twenty years from now someone would help me out if I needed help in taking care of and feeding my cat.
A few days later I placed an order with Chewy−one hundred twelve dollars and sixty-two cents of Beans food. She would be good for a number of months now.
And so we survived a second year of COVID successfully. My solitary lifestyle makes this fairly easy to accomplish. With people, I prefer avoidance anyway. It’s an excellent strategy that has always worked well for me in many aspects. It is interesting to discover that a pandemic can set in and find your life really doesn’t change all that much.
My thoughts now turned to what and where we would travel in the upcoming year. I considered giving the South another go. This time we would leave the desert earlier hopefully missing some of that dreadful humidity. Ah but there were still those pesky tornados to consider.
What to do?