White Dog, The Other White Dog, Another White Dog, and Still Another White Dog slept in and woke to a windless morning ablaze with sunshine, bright blue skies, and a setting that begged for exploration. The entire White Dog Army had totally enjoyed our accommodations for the night with its cool tile floors and courtyards and clean crisp wilderness smells.
We spent a leisurely morning breakfasting and walking around the "neighborhood." Nuka scampered up and down the ridges like a little mountain goat. Quinn dragged his long velcro coat through every bramble bush in sight in his apparent quest to become a burr baby; he sniffed every blade of grass and scrub along the walk. Puff stayed right at Steve's side prancing, a part of the pack, eyes shining. White Dog, after exploring a bit and overseeing her pack with pride left them and came running across the field, like a dog food commercial to leap over the low wall and join me as I sat talking with the women who were our hosts.
Then we loaded up and headed for a meandering afternoon through the Gila Wilderness. Taking a long way home, we traveled through the mountains, stopped and hiked at several points, and checked out the lovely man-made land formation made by the horrible practice of pit mining (copper rules this part of our state).
It was a grand adventure but we were all exhausted by the time we arrived home in the early evening....happy, all of us smiling, but tired. Quinn reminded us as he settled into his favorite lounging spot in the office, "No matter where you roam, there is no place like home!" Both of the Kansas girls (White Dog and Puff) agreed.
