I think it was 2008, when living in Covelo, CA. The strangest storm showed up in July that summer, the sky turned angry and black, it swarmed in during a usual summer of heat and endless blue skies.
Suddenly, it became dark, and the entire sky was filled with angry black and gray clouds, from mountain to mountain, inside a deep valley surrounded by mountains. My dogs, Muntu and Shisa, suddenly came inside, acting all nervous. Then the dry lightning started to strike. They hunkered down by my feet as I took refuge on my LR couch, as the lightning strikes got closer and closer, rattling my windows. This went on for a while.
Finally, it stopped, and almost suddenly, the sun came back out. My dogs and I ventured back outside. The sky was clear blue again, but we could see smoke coming up from almost every single direction we looked around the valley. There were fires in the mountains beginning everywhere.
Then, suddenly, I noticed the strange new dog inside our fenced compound. A Jack Russell. I tried to approach him, but he was frantically trying to find a way back out, running around like a crazed being, bashing into fences, all the while my two dogs were chasing him around as well. It didn't seem my dogs were being aggressive, just curious. But HE was frantic.
So, I brought my dogs inside and opened the side gate to my property to allow him to get back out. When he finally saw the open gate, he bolted like a spark of another lightning bolt, gone in a flash.
The next day, my friend John, who lived up in the mountains on Chicken Ridge, was given an evacuation notice. Of course, I told him he could stay with me. He showed up about 5pm the next day, with a suitcase and important belongings, and as I went out to greet him, there was the Jack Russell right there by the side gate I had let him out from 24 hours before.
Poor dog was frantic. Of course, John wasn't all that relaxed either, given that he might be about to lose his home. All just came through the gate together. We could see the fires burning all around. A lot was going on.
Got John settled in the guest room and came back outside. My dogs weren't being aggressive against the JR, mostly just curious. We brought out a bottle of wine, and most likely some weed, and sat down at the outside table, when we realized that the JR was pretty much covered with ticks over his entire body.
He was completely docile, as I picked him up and John and I spent at least two hours picking ticks off of him. Seemed there wasn't a square inch not covered. That evening, I allowed him inside on the utility porch with my other two dogs, who seemed to be quite accommodating.
Turns out, he wasn't house broken, and proceeded to mark his territory all over the porch. Next day, I did the usual rounds of contacting animal shelters to see if anyone was missing him. He was definitely a purebred, of the muscular type, and a proud boy. I even put up some posters around town. No responses, no results.
After a couple of weeks, I named him Eddie, after the dog on Frazier, just to give him a name. At this point, I definitely had not chosen this dog. But my other two seemed to be putting up with him, even if I wasn't yet ready to do so.
The oddest thing is, Eddie was absolutely devoted to me. Maybe because I picked all those ticks off of him? He started biting anyone that came into my yard if I wasn't outside at the time. He became a total terror in his desire to protect my territory, or what he perceived as such.
I later decided that he was probably a guerilla mountain pot growing guard dog, and it is really difficult to teach an old dog new tricks. He often had a furrowed brow.
So, I was able to teach him a few tricks, but he and I always had a love/hate relationship. We spent eight years together, and when he died, he was in my arms.
This photo that I ran across tonight reminded me of Eddie, now in his free space.