Mercy, our trusty Jeep Wrangler, doesn’t get as much work these days. The little orange Kamikaze is capable and still as much fun to drive as ever, but the Silverado gets the nod almost every time we venture out — the truck’s more comfortable, has more cargo capacity and, believe it or not, gets better gas mileage.
We’ve kept the dog hammock in the back seat of the Jeep to transport the pups if need be, and today we had to pay another visit to our veterinarian. We loaded up Scout and Dipstick and pointed Mercy in the direction of Midway, 55 miles away.
Arriving in the area before the appointed time, we stopped to investigate a small gun shop, White River Firearms, just down the road from the clinic. Nice place, respectable selection, good guys. As a gesture of thanks for their hospitality, I bought a couple of boxes of ammo.
Our business with the vet wasn’t anything serious — bordatella vaccine and a nail trim for each dog. Scout was her typically happy, cooperative self and Dipstick reprised his trademark beast-from-hell act. Back in the Jeep afterward, we headed toward The Mountain.
The pups’ initial visit in July was limited to Deb’s cousin’s garage. This time we drove up onto the construction site, leashed the pair and let ’em sniff what’ll soon be their home. They’d never been anyplace like that before, and their joy was evident.
We continued on to the garage, where I brought out Deb’s new rifle and boresighted it at 25 yards. When I was done I noticed that while Dipstick was still actively patrolling and seeking affection, Scout was more relaxed than I think I’d ever seen her.
It looks like she found the same peace that I have in that place. As close as she and I have become over 12 years, that’s really no surprise.
Strong winds this afternoon rustled the canopy overhead, creating a constant whoosh of white noise. I found it soothing, calming, and I know Scout did, too.
We’ll be back in Yellville tomorrow.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.