Today is a special occasion at my house. It’s “Bodie Day,” for it was on May 7 in 2005 that we got our dog. Our two previous dogs, Jezebel (1972-84) and Ted (1989-2004) arrived as puppies, but Bodie was 8 months old and full of mystery.
He seems to be a shepherd-collie mix, but he resembles a large coyote more than anything domestic. He’s too small to be a pureblood, but his big chest, small waist and graceful running suggest a Tervuren heritage — or so I’m told.
We got him from a woman who worked at a local veterinary clinic. Her husband had been working for a highway contractor in northern New Mexico. A dog started hanging around the job site, and when the job ended, a soft-hearted workman brought the dog home to Colorado.
His favorite spot was the Dumpster at Bode’s General Merchandise in Abiquiu, N.M. The store is pronounced “Bodie,” and thus the dog’s name. He still gets excited when I take out the trash, racing about the yard, then leaping at the trash bag or bin, apparently hoping to rip it or tip it so he can enjoy an avalanche of garbage.
That’s just a start on his bad habits. He chews seatbelts and auto interiors in general. He demolished the back seats of both our Geo Prizm and Chevy Blazer (which now abides at the local salvage yard), as well as the upper portions of the front-seat lap belts. In less than a minute, he bit a chunk out of a back-seat lap belt in a friend’s Subaru. His taste extends only to vehicles; he’s never bothered our house furniture.
I have no idea what training would be required to stop this. I tried “Bitter Apple” spray, which is supposed to make things unpalatable to dogs. It merely seemed to whet his appetite — not all that surprising, really, when you realize that dogs seem to enjoy rotting garbage, fetid deer manure, and even their own vomit.
When I bought a used Ford pickup in January to replace the dead Blazer (broken tooth on a differential gear), I was glad it had a camper shell — a place for Bodie that he couldn’t damage. However, it had an interior lining that resembled carpet. Bodie had it torn down and shredded in about a week of 10-minute rides.
But he still gets those rides almost daily, because I need to exercise and he needs to run, and there are some good spots a couple of miles from town. If you’re supposed to walk a mile or two every day, get a dog. They are better nags than any imaginable combination of doctors, therapists, spouses or parents.
So Bodie, despite his many flaws, improves our mental and physical health by insisting on walks. I have met a lot of nice people while walking him. I don’t know many of them by name. Mostly I just know the names of their dogs: Cowboy, Uboo, Max, Sugar Ray, Cheyenne, Cane, Gus, Cindy, Gracie, Cada, etc.
Getting out to enjoy our river and mountains is generally a blessing. But one learns that the great outdoors also includes rattlesnakes, skunks, cougars, icy footing, mud sloughs and slippery slopes, which provides a more balanced perspective than those abundant “groove on benign Mother Nature” essays.
Some years ago, after visiting my parents and their spoiled dog, Martha and I concluded that people who don’t have children at home shouldn’t have pets. And of course, we have violated that sensible conclusion. I’m glad we have. Bodie is doubtless spoiled, but his energy and enthusiasm are contagious, and make every day a better day — no matter how great his appetite for seat belts.
Ed Quillen (ed@cozine.com) is a freelance writer, history buff, and publisher of Colorado Central Magazine in Salida.
