TIME TRAVELER

I guess we have all played the "super power" game at one time in our lives. "If you could have any super power in the world, what would you choose?" I think where we are in our life's journey often determines which super power we would desire.

Invisibility was a strong wish when I was really young. If I were invisible, I could go with my brothers with out their knowledge all those times they left me behind. "The Shadow" was a popular radio show at the time. The Shadow was able to "cloud men's minds" so they couldn't see him. You have no idea how hard I tried to cloud my brother's mind. Jimmy was my practice dummy and while I pretty much strained my brain trying, it never worked.

In my twenties, super endurance would have worked the best. Even though I had the stamina of youth on my side, I still had to sleep. Darn.


In my thirties when scuba diving was a passion and I was studying for a marine biology career, I thought the ability to breathe under water would be the very coolest. Then I would not have to care about decompression schedules or the "bends." I could explore the amazing sea at will.






Also craved invulnerability in those days when "Jaws" scared me out of the water and away from my dream occupation. I still have not forgiven Steven Spielberg.

When in my forties, and fifties, I thought flying would be the best super power. I think because flying frees us from earthly ties that bind and it epitomizes freedom. I believe this usually comes when we are feeling bogged down or restricted by life. I used to dream at night a lot about flying, still do actually, but not nearly as often.

I really am not good at flying in my dreams, a bit like the Greatest American Hero if you remember that show. He was a super hero who was not quite in control of his super powers. Like him, my take offs needed coaxing and landings weren't pretty. Never hurt nor frightened, just awkward. I definitely had a control problems flying and power lines were often my nemesis. Might have had something to do with my job at the time with the power company. Still flying dreams are quite exhilarating. Flying rocks.

Lately, oh yes, I still play the game as I am not completely grown up yet. Time Travel is my super power of choice. I do love history and think to be able to witness history actually happening would be marvelous. Being so much closer to the end of my life than the beginning, time travel is a natural choice for me. Going back in time to lengthen my stay on earth or going to the future to make sure there is one for my next of kin, is very appealing. I would love to see if we ever get it right as a human race.

I don't have a desire to interfere with history, though slipping poison in Hitler's tea when he was a young man would be almost impossible to resist. I am Trekkie enough to know you don't mess with the "space time continuum." I would just want to witness some of the wonders of history, not participate. I would prefer to witness the greatness of man, not his failings.

To see how the very young Jesus lived, the one not written about. To also see him as an adult, the man who changed so much of the world as we know it. To watch Michelangelo or Thomas Edison work. To follow Ben Franklin around, to lean over Mark Twain's shoulder, or to sit beside Thoreau on Walden Pond. I would fly with Lindbergh across the Atlantic, I would step with Neil Armstrong onto the moon. I would watch Mozart compose and Matisse paint. What a wonderful super power for a history buff. That would be my choice.

Ok, you know what is coming. What super power would you chose?

DORKA

Mazie, a retired widow, lived on a country lane which contained about 5 spaced apart homes. She had called about a high light bill and I was there to investigate. I knew her very casually as I lived in a small community and every one knew everyone else to some degree. I hadn't seen her in a long time so the sight in her front yard was new to me.

Attached to a tree tie-out cable that allowed the animal to circle the large oak with out getting tangled, was a bizarre looking dog. He was huge, thin, mostly hairless and circling the tree at a steady, determined pace. He had done the repetitive motion so long that he had sculpted a 6 inch deep trench about 10 feet from the base of the tree. Round and round he went.

Mazie was sitting in a lawn chair with some friends, drinking tea and watching the dog run in circles.

"What is that?" was about all I could manage.

"Someone gave Dorka to me but he is really nuts." Mazie laughed. " I need to get rid of him before he digs his way to China."

I thought I was seeing a dog who was only in desperate need of exercise, mange treatment and worming so I told her I would take him if she were serious. She was delighted so at lunch time I picked him up and dropped him at my veterinarian's office for evaluation.

Jim, my vet, was shaking his head when I went to collect my new dog. He said that the whole office had tried to identify the dog but were stumped till Jim's wife came in and thought he might possibly be a Giant Schnauzer. Not having hair makes dog ID difficult but that was the general consensus after consulting dog books.

Giants are fairly rare and in my small town, nonexistent--till Dorka that is. They are large, square dogs ( as tall as they are long) and can get to about 80 pounds. He had Sarcoptic mange which is an easy cure, was indeed wormy, but in other wise appeared in decent health. The main thing wrong with him would not show up till I got him home.

This is what a well put together Giant Schnauzer looks like. With a lot of care Dorka eventually resembled the breed quite closely.

When I got him home and turned him loose in the pasture, I hoped he would run joyfully till he would almost drop from exhaustion when he realized he was no longer chained to a tree. I so looked forward to bringing some normalcy into his life. Scenes like that were what made all the expense, time and energy of rescue work worth it. However, that did not happen. Nothing did. For a long time he just stared at the ground. Then he started a very strange behavior.

Dorka never responded to my voice or touch but he definitely was not deaf. As long as he was awake, he would dig dirt with his front paw and try to catch it in his mouth as the dirt or sand flew by, consistently failing every time. Dig--try to catch, dig--try to catch-- with his stub of a tail wagging furiously the whole time. Petting and attention never stopped the process only eating and sleeping did. Fortunately, he slept a lot. Rarely, he responded briefly to his name but his eyes would quickly glaze over. Most often his world contained only him.

Dorka was mentally damaged or at least that was Jim's evaluation when he observed him in a free roaming setting. Jim suspected severe autism which he had never seen in a dog but the repetitive motions sparked that diagnosis. Perhaps it was congenital or perhaps he had suffered a brain injury. We would never find out. I could only keep that shell of a dog as happy as he was capable of being and that was supplying him with and unending supply of soft dirt to attempt to catch.

He was allowed to free roam 2.5 acres with my horse and pony as I was worried about putting him with the other dogs. He never acknowledged the other dogs and would not even know if one were getting aggressive towards him. I put two of my Miss Congeniality types of dogs with him but he totally ignored them. He rarely explored the 2.5 acres, never ran, never played, he just spent his days, nose to the ground, looking for new dirt to catch. I just filled in the holes.

His hair came back and he developed into a quite handsome dog who lived in a totally different world. Dorka was most likely a victim of a puppy mill. They have no problem with brother /sister breeding or he could have suffered severe abuse. His stint tied to that tree and Lord knows what happened before that tree episode as people tried to deal with that strange dog, could not have helped his condition.

Several wanted to adopt the striking looking dog but that was out when his problem was explained. People wanted a dog they could interact with. As he was totally unadoptable, he stayed with me for about 4 years when cancer, which is inherit of the breed, finally took him.

Dorka was the poster dog for the need to spay/neuter pets and to put puppy mills out of existence. There needs to be serious laws. Just another quiet reminder. I know my readers know better as many of you are thoughtful animal lovers. Just be sure to remind your friends. Thank you.

WHO GOT MY DAUGHTER PREGNANT ??

Besides keeping bad people out of the Hunt Club , my job as gate keeper often revolved around keeping track of children and stray adults. Teens who were grounded were not allowed out nor were their undesirable boyfriends allowed in. Divorces were a whole "nother" nightmare. The only part of the job I really didn't like was being forced to police the personal lives of the owners.

Alice was the other gate keeper and one day she and I were chatting in the guard house. I had come to pick up my check when he burst through the door. Doug, an owner with two teenage children, was really upset. His face was red and he spit a bit when he bellowed at us.

"Ok, which one of you is responsible for my daughter being pregnant?"

I felt a grin coming on and had a strong desire to tell him the obvious, that it was a biological impossibility. Our bodies produced eggs, not sperm , and in truth my eggs had turned to dust which removed me from even being a donor. Somehow, his bulging neck veins and eyes made me think better of a flip answer. Alice, a sweet, bit naive, and a very religious young woman, was aghast.

It seemed he had come from home unexpectedly to find the unwanted , access denied, boyfriend Raul, snuggled up on the couch with his daughter. The boy bolted from the house and disappeared on foot. That is when the daughter broke the news about the coming baby to distract the father from chasing the boy. Perhaps now is the time to mention that Doug was a deputy sheriff and armed.

Doug's eyes were slits as he slammed out of the guard house in search of our boss so he could have our jobs. Right then, I felt like telling him he was welcome to mine. Alice and I both knew we had not let the young man in. I had personally turned him back several times. He was a persistent little cuss though, either in rut or in love, maybe both.

Unless he had sneaked through in someone's trunk, he had not come through on my shift. Not being allowed to search vehicles nor did we have "teen sniffing "dogs, we felt comfortable that we had done our j0b and he had not visibly come through the front gate.

Mike our boss, after questioning us, backed us up completely. He offered Doug all the security video tapes for the previous three months to see if we had let in the wayward boy. Seems Doug was not interested in viewing 2000 hours of tape to catch us in sloppy gate work.

When he questioned his daughter further, he learned that for months that summer, the boy had walked miles through pasture lands to the back perimeter of the Hunt Club, climbed the fence and nailed the willing daughter. Had to admire the kids determination in seeing his love. Regardless, we were off the hook.

The deed was done and while Doug was understandably unhappy, he realized that forbidding a relationship was not all that was needed to stop it. The tighter he had tried to draw the net before, the more holes appeared.

To keep her from running off with the boyfriend and out of Doug's life forever, he decided to allow Raul entrance through the gate at will, but would not allow them to marry. The kids seemed content with the new arrangement.

Doug's main objection to Raul was that he came from a poor migrant worker family and was quite content with his poorness. Raul from years of being uprooted as part of a migrant family, had not been able to muster the grades necessary to graduate and was happy to work the vegetable fields with his family.

Doug was no different than most fathers. While Raul was Mexican, I really don't believe Doug was prejudiced for Doug's wife was from a wealthy Cuban family. It was not the Spanish heritage. It was just that all fathers think no man is good enough for his daughter and a migrant field worker with no ambition, was pretty low on the list of suitables.

When the baby came, Doug went from disapproving father to proud grandfather. She really was an amazingly beautiful child. I wish I had a better end for this story but I left there when the baby was about 3 months old. As of then, the kids were still not married, daughter and granddaughter lived at home and Raul visited regularly. I know Doug was hoping the boy would tire, move on and out of their lives.

I would like to think that Raul was hit with a fit of ambition upon seeing his beautiful child, was able to carve out a niche for his family and they lived happily ever after. Just as easily though, he could have pulled up stakes when the crop season changed and went in search of work some where else, either taking his young family with him or just disappearing all together.

I'll let you create your own ending.