Life in the Rastro Lane

Stumbling through the door in the middle of the night after two weeks away, I was joyfully assaulted by 98 pounds of red fur, chuffing and woofing and rooing and wagging from head to toe, bashing his head and slapping his great long tongue against any body part he could reach, reassured at last that HIS HUMAN had not, indeed abandoned him to the distant pet sitter for ever and dark eternity. 

No matter how tired, how stressed, how whatever I may be, Rastro's enthusiasm and unfailing love make me laugh. He absolutely hates it when I leave home, and I rarely go anywhere without him. Indeed, while I would have preferred to remain in New Zealand an extra day (ok, week) or two, our yearly trek to Chinook Winter Carnival mandated an early return. After 32 hours on Kelley Drive, it was time to go again.

So reeling with exhaustion and jetlag, horrified by the cold and snow and ice and the destruction of the barn, barely ambulatory from lack of sleep, I packed up the car and the dog and aimed west to New Hampshire for Chinook Winter Carnival.

We have done this trip since the big dog was a squirming puppy, and he loves the chance to visit with his Chinook pals (and girlfriends, truth be told). Earlier years saw us sledding with the children. Later events, as he has graduated to elder statesman status, have found us in the museum for at least part of the day, greeting visitors.

As he grows older, and we grow closer year by year, Rastro keeps teaching me what is important in life. It's about love, and forgiveness, and gentleness, and, yes, unfailing enthusiasm. 

Tamworth was very cold this year, with heaps of snow. The Chinook owner who had for years directed the events from the Remick Farm Museum was gone, and the new people faced many organizational challenges. The Tamworth Inn, Chinook headquarters from the beginning, was shuttered and plowed in, so we were in a different hostel down the road. Tired as I was, with lots of demands on the calendar for the coming week, I found myself rattled at times, working hard at not showing it.

Unfazed, Rastro rolled with each new thing, content to have dozens of children crawling all over him, pulling his tail and ears, "patting" him with a little more energy than he would prefer, asking him to sit and lie down over and over, feeding him treats and wrapping their little arms around his big warm ruff. 

For the last four years, an elderly woman with dementia has accompanied her daughter to the event, and Rastro has taken special care of this precious soul, gently keeping people from crowding her, alerting us when she needed help, offering a warm head on a cold lap. This year, Edith seemed distressed at the changes, and Rastro was especially patient with and solicitous of her. Finally, as her knarled hand stroked his soft ears, we watched her relax.

Over the course of the weekend, we visited with several of his puppies and grand-puppies, and it warmed my heart to see how his generous and joyful personality has passed on to them all, and how happy they have made their people.

What a gift this big red dog has been. Tomorrow he and I head back south to Carolina. Rastro will love the chance to spend time alone with mom, go for long walks on bare roads every day, and hog three-quarters of the king-sized bed. I'm happy to oblige him.

Love at first sight, the day I met Hickory Hill Rastro. 

He crawled up onto my lap and would not be put down. 

The smell of his fur is still my favorite scent on earth.