CRYING WOLF

My oldest daughter has olfactory senses that reach far beyond the level of paranormal. She can smell a digestive action at 500 meters, or a body that has not been showered, powdered and deodorized within the last 6 minutes at 2 miles.

I can only smell a litter-box-beyond-the-necessary-time-to-empty when I want to. Through the years of small children in diapers, numerous canines/felines/equines, and foreign military assignments in areas where elevated standards of personal hygiene were not part of the culture, I think I have learned to eradicate many sensory susceptibilities.

Or simply come to like them.

I love the smell of my dog - and he smells exactly like a dog should (i.e. furry, outdoorsy, and doggy breath). I absolutely ADORE the smell of my horses - if it could be packaged as an indoor deodorizer (which would rather defeat the original purpose, I realize), I would buy it in bulk.

And after living in Arizona high chaparral for ten years, I still take a deep breath almost every time I step outside to inhale the scent of mesquite, sand and simple clear air coming down from the Huachuca Mountains.

With one MAJOR exception.

Fire.

I live surrounded by wide, open grasslands which, for 93.06% of the year are brown, sun-bleached and extremely flammable.

I live within clear sight of Mexico, which does not try in anyway at all to contain their wildfires - they just let them burn out on their own.

After sunset, it's not that bad - I can walk the perimeter of my property with my dog, and it's fairly easy to see fire of any noticeable size burning. And in the daytime, smoke is usually present.

And since I detest beyond reasonable cause the smell of burning flesh, I can normally deduce if it is simply a family barbecue upwind.

So what do you do at night when you smell smoke, but can't locate the source?

I can't phone our local volunteer fire department direct without waking someone up - I can't call 911 because it's not an emergency (at least not yet).

Out of sheer desperation, I call the non-emergency county sheriff's office.

Now to just put this in proportion, our county is 6,219 square miles in size - that's larger than the state of Connecticut, and just slightly smaller than the state of New Jersey.

Lotta area to cover.

So I was extremely grateful to get a polite, courteous gentleman to took the time to calm this old woman's fears of being burned to death in her sleep - which because of recent events is more than slightly elevated.

I'm not afraid of dying - but I am extremely anxious about being burned.

YOU JUST KEEP ON PUSHING MY LOVE OVER THE BORDER LINE

My youngest daughter cannot drive, so I end up being her primary mode of transportation.

I usually end up driving her any place further than three blocks from her apartment that the city bus doesn't drive to.

We drive up to Tucson to a specialist in pain management usually once a month - but at least we pass a Costco, so I can 'catch two pigeons with one bean' (isn't that kinder than 'killing two birds with one stone'? It's Italian).
And today it was Douglas; which is only about 45 miles.

But I have to drive back to pick her up about 23 miles - then past where I live, and on to Douglas - then past my home again the 23 miles to her apartment - and then 23 miles back to my home.

So round-trip, about 136 miles.

Of not really wonderful scenery.

Do you see why I have a headache tonight?

I do love driving. Long-distance driving. I've been from Maryland to Oregon - Michigan to California - Arizona to Hawaii.... no, wait a minute, I guess I didn't drive that, did I?

But it's been not quite three days since I was been slammed to the hard ground by a hungry 900+ lbs. horse, bruised my kidneys and am still aching incredibly across my shoulders, back of my neck and the back of my head....

Whine, whine, whine. But it wasn't quite a pleasure drive this time.


Add to this the fact that it was to Douglas. Douglas is... well, it's a border time, adjoining to Agua Prieta, Sonora, Mexico, which is... well, it's one of those places you've heard about in the news lately. A lot of bodies. People kidnapped. Mayors and police chiefs who have either disappeared or came over to the U.S. requesting asylum.

So after two hours plus at the place, we headed back home... only to be turned around by the Border Patrol on the only direct highway back home. There was an ambulance with sirens on - couple of autos smashed - a helicopter flying overhead - bunches of Border Patrol, Cochise County Sheriffs and unmarked vans....

Well, I think you can guess that it wasn't a elementary school outing.

So we turned back - hung out at the local Pizza Hut for 45 minutes - and then drove back when the highway was re-opened.


I need to take three more Tylenol extra strength now just from writing about it.

RUNAWAYS

Some things in my life are as predictable as the sun rising in the east, Wal-Mart not having enough cashiers, and the U.S. Postal Service having a minium of six people waiting in line at any given time of day.

Also, in my universe:

1) I can never walk out of Target with less than $45 worth of merchandise, even if I came in for only one thing.

2) The moon will always set 10 minutes before I expect it to, necessitating a literal walking-by-faith-and-memory walk for about 40 yards around 11:30 p.m. to say good night to the horses.

3) My dog Murray will never refuse a piece of bologna or an opportunity to go outside with me.

And 4) each and every day, both my horses will be lined up at the fence right by their water tank at 3:30 p.m., and if they are not fed by 3:45 p.m., Najale will begin whining every three and one half minutes until they are.

Guaranteed.

So today at 3:55 p.m., when I glanced out the kitchen window and see - GASP - no horses at all. No whinnying. No hoof stomping. Nada.

My heart stopped for just a moment.

The dogs and I went outside, walked slowly and deliberately to the gate, calling the horses loudly by name.

Now, my horse, he hears his name if I whisper it inside the house next to an open window. Literally. Sometimes he responds to me just THINKING about him.

He has never, in the five and a half years I have owned him, once ignored a call from me - because there might just be food involved.

If Najale is sound asleep on the ground (which horses don't in general, so of course it's the only way mine does), he does not leap to his hooves like a regular horse., but he will peer sleepily at me and will let me sit on his side and pet him (this horse is either incredibly trusting or just plain stupid, I'm not entirely certain which).

So with no response this afternoon, when normally there would be two hungry horses responding (doesn't mean I don't feed them enough, just means Najale is an incredibly vocal PIG), I began to panic just a bit, and began to mentally list possibilities:

- They could have jumped the fence and taken off for greener pastures. Not that there really are greener pastures at this time of year in southern Arizona, but there are a number of spots along the fence that either horse could easily hop over if they really wanted to.

- Both horses could have died at the extreme far end of the pasture, burying each other so I won't notice the bodies - or maybe they both preferred cremation, who knows.

- Najale and/or Sally could have been stolen by someone looking for a pleasure horse without knowing Sally is an insane Thoroughbred who believes she is running at Belmont whenever you get on her back, and Najale who, despite his age, is a goofy baby who has never had a bit in his mouth and opens only voice commands... when he feels like it.

- And the final, and least likely one of all, is that they are BOTH standing compactly side-by-side inside their shed at the exact angle and spot where their hooves cannot be seen from outside of the fence.

And yes, they were.

Whew.