Cirque Gryphon

Gryphon’s first days here have been phenomenal. He’s taken to the house, cats, critters and us. It has been an instant bond from the day I arrived at the breeder’s and he took to “B” immediately when he and I arrived home. One cat has become his “bud” and one is a bit hesitant, but doesn’t flee when he approaches. Izzy, on the other hand, cannot understand WHY we would let such a behemoth in HER house! She gets along with all the other critters, including Redford the pig, so I’m hoping that she’ll come around eventually. They will all come in to eat and sometimes sleep, but only Sox will grace us with her presence if he is in the house. It’s pretty entertaining watching him do the whole “play pose” with the cats and he’s been snagged more than once when he’s been a little over-exuberant. Puppies! He may be a year old, but he’s still very much a puppy!

He’s had no issues being in his kennel during the day (I suspect that he sleeps most of the day). He was a bit restless at night and we realized that he was used to having a crate to retreat into and has been fine at night since that purchase. Using a crate has been a huge change from how things were with Taylor. Taylor never liked the very idea of a crate, much less being in one, and was a model house dog, rousing only when the alarm went off. We have to keep reminding ourselves that Gryphon is used to having a dozen kennel mates and some of his restlessness is due to their absence. The second night we were on the road we stopped in Roswell, NM at the Comfort Inn. I was just about to crash and Gryphon uttered the first peep of the trip so far. He was whining from the bathroom and when I went to investigate I found him in front of the closet mirror talking/whining to the doggie-in-the-mirror. This had a potentially disastrous outcome so in a moment of divine inspiration I stripped the spread from the bed and draped it over the ironing board and set the whole affair in front of the mirror. The doggie-in-the-mirror went away and Gryphon settled down - good thing, because I was dead tired and we still had 10 hours driving to reach home.

The trip was like most road trips that you push through alone. It was mostly a drive on auto-pilot; although, this time I managed to remember to pick up several book CDs from the library before setting out. The books made the long miles easier, especially at night.

The straightest and fastest shot from home to Boise takes up a lot of off-freeway driving – more appealing to the eye, but leaves a lot to be desired as far as cell service – blue cell hell – and phone tag was rampant - I mostly just gave up the effort. It was disappointing as I’d hoped to catch up on a lot of calls that never seem to get made.

The most stressful part of the trip was the very first night. Dark had fallen hard while I was still on I-10 and I was already wary of the stretch north from Ft. Stockton to the New Mexico border. I had not seen another vehicle in a couple of hours. This lonely road is a lot of sage, oil wells and … well … nothing actually. There was, however, a proliferation of jack rabbits, horned owls, coyotes and deer. Proliferation is not an adequate word; abundant might be a better choice, but still doesn’t do it justice. The scene played out like a peripheral sidebar featuring a Steven King novel while I was listening to Sarah Dunant’s In the Company of the Courtesan – a very weird experience at best, with carnage both in the book and on the road. After a half dozen owls had flown up in front of the Explorer over the course of 10 miles I began to feel a little spooked by all the nocturnal hijinks and pulled off in the next picnic area to sleep till dawn – probably another 40 miles and many more owls and critters.

I got out to unkink and shake off the unsettling miles, looked up and was awestruck. What struck me in this very western part of Texas nothingness were the lack of light pollution and the amazing display of celestial light. There were no vehicles, no street lamps, no houses; just a lot of great, open dark punctuated only by the occasional and distant lamp from an oil rig. I lay back on the hood of the truck and stared off into the cosmos until sleep threatened to overtake me and I retreated to my pillow in the back. I went to sleep thinking there is just nothing like the crystalline sky of the desert.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, save the suicidal flood of bugs upon the windshield north of Salt Lake City. Best the awfulness happen there since driving through SLC is a trial all unto itself – it’s the one unavoidable traffic cesspool along I-15 from Spanish Fork to Tremonton that has the same effect on the psyche as fingernails on a chalk board. Sure, there are ways around it if one wants to add a day to the trip.

I spent a good bit of the time feeling like I was in a huge extended neighborhood, since I’ve run this route so often. I really don’t have to think where to turn, where the motels are, where the gas exits are as well as the restaurants. I’m sure truckers must feel this way. No thinking - pas de la pensée. There were long distances of some pretty spectacular scenery and often I would find myself absorbed in what seemed like an endless non sequitur - flashes of grandeur that had zero relation to the book I was listening to – comic and confusing sometimes. On the return I had the added comedy of Gryphon – my own canine Cirque du Soleil.