Lots of people might be tempted to look at Murray and think, "Aw, poor dog. He should be pitied, to be a paraplegic, dependent on a wheelchair, unable to climb stairs." Never for a minute should anyone feel sorry for his situation. He has no concept of his disability, and other than not getting to live in the part of my house where the vintage carpets are, he does not let life limit him. Quite the opposite. He lives like SuperDog, especially when he goes on his regular adventures like today.
We humans struggle a little climbing the long steep hill to the mining claim, carrying lumber and construction materials for the tiny cabin. Even Elsa carries her own water and snacks up in a backpack. Murray has only himself and his wheels. Sometimes he needs a little push on the steep sections, or if he gets snagged on a branch or a rock he needs someone to straighten him on the track. Otherwise, he is free to roam the mountain, without a fence or a leash in sight. He knows exactly where to go to hang out with his people friends, and he is content to lie around, digging in the soft soil to find cool spots, and snapping at the sky raisins while we build the cabin.
It's when we get ready to go home that we see just how liberating the mountain hikes are for him. Me personally, I go very slowly down the hill on the way back, trying not to slip and slide on the loose duff, feeling every inflexible tendon from my knees down. Murray, he takes the opposite tack. He points his nose downhill, and he FLIES. Nothing holds him back. He feels no fear. He is as exuberant as an able-bodied puppy. And for his entire life, he has thought of himself as exactly that. He believes he is whole and happy, and he acts accordingly. There's a lesson in there for me, when I feel sorry for myself or mad at my deteriorating body. Murray takes everything life throws at him, owns it, and keeps on rolling.
Before we could leave the house, Murray's wheels had to be washed. He got so excited when he saw the truck, and our neighbor, that he bounced around, following our neighbor's footsteps, leaving a trail of poo in globs that he then rolled in....
...and our neighbor then stepped in before climbing across my seat into the back of the truck. Lucky for me I noticed the poo before I sat in the truck.
Murray feels no shame in his incontinence. It's all part of the package, he insists.
Trudging up the steep section, with Elsa patiently waiting for us to catch up. She stayed pretty close this time around.
Elsa snacking on sky raisins. There were lots when we got there today. Fewer by the time we left. I killed as many as I could, and kicked their insect bodies out of the door.
Wheel time is okay for climbing the hill and dinnertime, but it makes it harder to get into the cabin, while we wait for the ramp to be built.
It's way more fun to be in the cabin with everyone else.
Elsa waiting for more Cheetos and beef jerky.
We have made huge progress in the last couple of trips. There is now sheathing all around the base, halfway up the walls on two sides.
I still have to finish digging the french drain. I'm not going to do more work on it until we repair the handle on the pickax, though.
Now that the door side is sheathed, I am having more trouble getting up into the cabin. Murray and I both need the ramp to be built.
There will eventually be a deck on this side, accessed by the ramp, so Murray and I can chill here in the future.
Heading home at sunset. Slight uphill first, then neck or nothing until he reaches the car.
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