Dispatch 50

Palm Desert, California
March 28, 2021
Greetings, Fellow Adventurers!

Sorry, it has been a while since my last dispatch, but I was afraid of using the computer.  I thought it could give me a virus, it seems to always have one. Scout eventually talked me down from that misapprehension.

Anyway, as you may know we are in the desert sands, and I am reunited with my camel Pete.  Happy are the days on Pete, trotting over the dunes in the evening, singing cowboy songs to the moon.  Unfortunately my shortcomings continue to plague me in the most unexpected ways.  For instance, the other day Scout and I went to town for grub.  I had made a few faux pas in camp over the previous days, so Scout headed straight for the drug store to replenish her supply sedatives. Suddenly, for a few ill-advised minutes I was off the leash, as us married fellers say.

I immediately made a beeline for the general store, Ralph’s, to get ice cream, pastries, and anything else that looked good before she caught up with me.  It is good to be foot loose and fancy-free with ten silver dollars gangling in your pocket.

As the store doors slid open, I realized to my chagrin that I did not have my darn viral mask thing.  Everyone wears them like talismans down here, and I was sure they would toss my sorry behind out in the sandy street if I did not have one. I knew I could not go back to Pete for mine because Scout would catch up to me and I would not get any treats. What to do?

Being a resourceful buckaroo from Idaho I realized that right there beside the shopping carts was my solution.  They had one of those little white barrels of very wet sissy towels to wipe your cart down with.  Solution found!

I ripped off a good foot of the soggy things and covered over my mouth and noise, tying them on at the back of my head with a trusty fly fisherman’s knot.  Then I headed for the ice cream freezers.  

Well, gosh, I had not gone ten feet breathing in that rattlesnake juice before I had become dizzy and had a pounding headache.  Also, my fellow patrons were looking at me like I was crazy as I wobbled toward my goal.  By the time I got the cooler door open and my selection made,  I could hardly stand up and was hallucinating.  It seemed all my fellow shoppers now appeared to be snowmen.  This seemed odd, but I have consumed a lot of Old Trout Whiskey over the years and am no stranger to “odd visions”.  

Well, off I headed for the check-out counter and freedom.  Of course, as usual, I had to wait in line. There were about six snow men in front of me.  By the time I got my turn and my dollars laid down I was in pretty tough shape.  I asked the checker snow person if she knew her nose looked like a carrot and I laughed like a jackal at my cleverness.  Of course, she pressed a buzzer and once again security forces arrived in my life.  They removed my mask jolly quick as I complimented them on their coal eyes, top hats, scarves and the quality of the zip tie holding my hands behind my back.

As it happened, just a few minutes later Scout headed toward Ralph’s and there I was zip-tied to a bench outside the door, eyes rolled back in my head, unconscious.  There was also a half gallon of ice cream in my lap, melting in the desert sun and covering me with sticky goop.  By her watch, Scout later told me, we had only been apart about fifteen minutes.  She immediately swallowed two of the nerve medicine tablets she had just purchased and got some security snowmen to lift me up on Pete.

Of course in hindsight, everything turned out just fine, and we can all have a good laugh around the campfire (not Scout so much) and everything turned out just fine.  In the end Pete licked up the melted ice cream. Turns out French Vanilla is his favorite as well.

PS. We are having such a rewarding season here in the arroyo that we are staying two extra weeks and will arrive back at the cottage about April 16. See you all then.