Nacho Man-dog
- 4 days ago
- 13 min read
“Yeah. Time sort of loses meaning when everything happens inside the same walls just like it does when you’re trapped in your head. You’ve got to find some way to measure your progress or you’ll go crazy.”
After we stopped for water the seventh time, the trees thinned enough for some weak sunbeams to leak through. After our eighth water stop, we stepped out of the woody dreadmill onto the shores of a lake surrounded by sharp peaks stabbing at the dull sky. The air stuck to my fur like a sock just out of the dryer. It felt as stuffy in my nose as breathing under a blanket on a warm day. Clouds billowed like smoke caught on a ceiling and the naked sky between the clouds had a flat neon glow that might have worked at sunrise, but the sun was far too old by this time of morning to pull off that look.
“Does it seem like it’s getting smokier to you?” Mom asked, pointing at the bubblegum-grey side of the sky.
“Seems fine to me,” I said. “Summer is just like that.”
Mom looked around with disappointment at all the ruined pictures. A colony of igloos took up all the spots where a dog might pose in front of the scenery. The villagers stood up from their folding chairs clutching mugs of poop juice and climbed out of igloos with pillow-shaped hair. I ran toward the one that looked most like their chief. She was standing tall and barking loud for all to come and see the distinguished guest.
“Hear ye, here ye! Come behold this outstanding canine specimen!” she shouted to the smoldering heavens. Only in her funny dialect, she pronounced it, “Nacho, where are you? Nacho, come!”
“Na-cho kum to you too!” I barked, carefully sounding out the greeting.
Before I could sit at her feet and politely kiss her hand, a dog came out of the bushes.
“Hi, my name is…” he said before he got distracted by the shouting lady and ran to see what she was carrying on about.
“NACHO! NAAAH-CHO!!!” the Loud One hollered. She grabbed my Friend by the collar as soon as he was within range.
Behind me, Mom yelled, “OSCAR! OSCAR! C’MERE, OSCAR!”
“Hi, Oscar,” the Loud One and Nacho said at the same time, although the lady was a little more friendly about it.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance!” I wagged. “The noisy one behind me is named Mom. If you’ll please excuse me for a moment, I need to see what she’s screaming about.”
I found Mom standing on a rock and roaring like she does when she can’t see me. Half the time the reason she can’t see me is because I’m standing right behind her, so her screaming wasn’t a big deal. What was much more interesting was the frisbee next to her on the rock.
“What do you suppose this frisbee is doing here?” I sniffed. I’m not really a fetch kind of guy, but picking up a frisbee is a great way to start a game of tag, so I tested its texture with my teeth. Nobody came at first, so I was just about to do the next best thing and give it a good rip when Nacho burst out of the bushes behind me.
“Hey! That’s Na-cho frisbee. It’s mine!” He cocked his head, trying to decide whether to fight me for it or whether to work it out like a gentleman in a good old-fashioned game of tug.
“Finders keepers, losers weepers.” I put my prize down on the rock to pose victoriously with one paw on top of it.
Nyoink! Mom’s hand crept up behind me and snatched it from under my paw.
“Hey!” I barked. “Throw it! Throw it! Throw it!”
“Throw it! Throw it! Throw it!” Nacho agreed.
“Please don’t let Oscar play with Nacho’s frisbee,” the Loud One begged.
“Don’t worry, I’m giving it back to him.” Mom waggled the frisbee. “Nacho! Nacho! You want the frisbee?”
Nacho pointed like a notched arrow. “I want the frisbee! I want the frisbee so bad!”
“Throw it, you tease!” I screeched.
Mom threw the frisbee. It sailed through the air and landed right at Nacho’s feet. He nyoinked it up in his teeth and ran back to his village with it.
“Good job, Mom! You did it!” I cheered. Usually Mom throws balls to a spot where there’s no one to catch them. I have to chase them and knock them on the ground so they won’t get away before she can come pick it up. But now that Nacho had done the hard work, all I had to do was supervise. Nacho and I made a great team.
While Nacho was busy with the frisbee, I came back to the village to get to know his clan.
“Where are you from?” Mom asked the Loud One.
I pushed into her legs to encourage her to add her other hand to the butt scratching.
“We’re from Portland,” she told my back in a voice loud enough for Mom to hear.
“I’m from My Hometown,” I grinned. “It’s right near the City. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”
“We just came down from the eastern Cascades,” Mom added. “Was it smoky up here yesterday?”
“We could smell it last night, but a lot more seems to have blown in this morning. Where did you camp?” What she meant was, How did you get all the way up here so early in the morning? Are you a superhero?
“Why yes, I am a superhero,” I said. “They call me Tintin Quarantino because I’m an adventurous traveler with a fresh and unconventional approach to storytelling that fuses cinematic influences and humor to pay homage to the classic films I admire.”
“We slept in my van at the trailhead and got an early start,” Mom translated.
Both Mom and the Loud One looked around like they’d lost the next page of the script and it might be stuck under a rock or on a tree limb.
“Welp,” Mom said. “We should probably get going if we want to see the top.”
“It’s not much farther. About a mile,” the Loud One said.
“How many steps is that?” I asked, in case the suspense was too much for Mom to handle.
“Enjoy your trip,” Mom said, turning away. “I hope the smoke blows out soon.”
