Desert Dogs

In Palm Springs, Betsy has a running joke about the people who show up at liquor stores with no visible ties to the community. She postulates the existence of "Desert Men", who slip into town from some desert home to stock up on supplies then just slip back out.

Following in this vein, we started carefully examining local dogs, trying to determine if they were "desert dogs" (perhaps owned by a desert man?) or not.

But first, a little word about Arizona: I don't think we drove through any state that had fewer rest stops (perhaps the states' libertarian influences opposed communistic notions such as state run bathroom facilities?), or in general just gas stations to stop and take a break. I felt like we drove for over two hundred miles without a stop until we found this little place called the Black Mesa gas station.

While here, we were chatted up by a woman who worked one of the cruise ships on Lake Powell. Like a lot of people, she was delighted to hear our story -- and I was delighted to tell it. Betsy, having heard it approximately 37,000 times, was not delighted to hear it again.

As we talked, we watched this woman's husband's entertainment at this gas station. They drove up, got gas, and bought cheap dogfood out of a can. The man then sat by the gas pump, and fed the strays, which we all instantly agreed were 'desert dogs'.

This will be my lasting impression of Arizona.