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Dogs of the rez

Tamara LaPlante is the patron saint of stray dogs, which run rampant here.

She currently has 19 dogs, I think, plus what seems like a hundred cats and kittens.

It’s become a tradition among volunteers to give Tamara a bag of dog food before leaving the reservation. Now that it’s so bitterly cold outside, I understand better why Tamara fosters so many dogs.

She offered to host Pixel at her house, too, which was really sweet. So my little Maltese —

— almost befriended this guy —

— until I realized Frontier Airlines doesn’t allow dogs on its planes.

Ye Olde Main Sign: Then and Now

I wasn’t in my right mind when I said I’d post photos every day. I’m exhausted from picking and wrapping presents for an entire city (reservation) of children and catching up with people I see too little of. Here’s a cheap update:

hi, honey, I’m home

Tiny planes terrify me, especially when the pilot is my age. …

… even moreso when the pilot has to carve through icicles.

I skipped my senior year of high school; I’ve never had a physics class. It’s all magic to me, how this wimpy little propeller can hold a dozen adults in the air.

Only when we landed did I realize I’d slipped on the wrong shoes in my sleepless haste to leave for a 6:30 a.m. flight.

I walked a snowy quarter-mile in my little ballet flats and picked up some winter-appropriate attire from a store near my hotel.

Staying at the Days Inn by myself at Christmastime doesn’t compare to waking up on a flight attendant’s sprawling cattle ranch in the summer.

Bathtime

I hate it as much as she does. I’m used to my dog looking like this:

But if you get water on her, she looks like this:

She doesn’t seem to mind the blowdry, though.


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