The next morning we had an amazing breakfast,
We packed up the dogs and headed for the north fork of the Yuba River for a hike. It was beautiful and the dogs did fine.
For the most part, the dogs ignored each other. But that’s fine, I’ll totally take it.
The trail parallels and then crosses a feeder creek on the way up a long rise, and there’s a sweet little waterfall on the way.
Jimbo invited a couple of friends over and spent the afternoon making a wonderful Thai meal, which we finished it off with…
The evening ended on a bit of a down note. After two days, Chico was still snarling at Buddy when Buddy got what Chico thought was too close to me, and Buddy finally reached the limits of his good nature. When deciding if this was a place for us to visit, I described Chico’s attitude towards larger dogs (essentially, being an a**hole to them) and Jimbo said that if pushed too far, Buddy just kind of sits on other dogs and holds them down until they submit, without hurting them. And that’s pretty much what happened, except Chico didn’t give up at first, and Buddy’s teeth got involved and broke Chico’s skin. I cleaned up the wounds, and after an hour or so Chico calmed down, but he was pretty shaken. He tried the teeth-showing thing once or twice more during the rest of our stay and each time I reminded him that this was exactly the attitude that got him thumped and he did the right thing and stopped snarling. And Buddy returned to being a perfect host.
Jimbo feeds Buddy top quality kibble topped with some canned salmon or chicken and floating in about a half cup of freshly juiced fruits and veggies – beets, kale, carrots, a little garlic, whole citrus . . . whatever is in the garden and the fridge. And of course, Jimbo makes some for himself too. One night Chico and I joined in the ritual. I don’t know if it was the novelty of the meal, or the other dog slurping down his portion, or if it was just plain yummy, but my picky eater of a dog thought it was an excellent meal and licked his bowl.
Sunday was Easter, and we went to church before I left. That was something I don’t usually do, but Jimbo goes every week, so I went to see what they had to say. Based on that one experience, I don’t have a strong desire to join a Methodist church, though I did find Pastor Susan to be a dedicated and passionate circuit-rider of a preacher, driving miles of twisty mountain roads in all weather to serve three congregations in three small towns with three sermons each Sunday.