One artist's journey: Trying to live a creative life with grace, grit, gratitude...and a border collie.
(or perhaps I should say: greys, grit and gratitude)

01 April 2012

Giggster Remembered (Part 2): Giggler's Travels

Whether Gig truly loved to travel...or simply tolerated it because he loved to be with me, I'll never know. Either way, anytime I began packing for a trip...he was there at my heels, sitting in the bags or hopping in the truck as I loaded.

As I criss-crossed the country marketing my art...Giggy co-piloted virtually every mile. Sometimes he made suggestions regarding navigation or driving technique. He probably saw more of this country than most people ever will...all 48 contignuous states, up to Northern Ontario and through Quebec.

To every one of those miles he brought his sense of adventure, boundless patience, insatiable curiosity and good natured companionship.

He was also an intrepid hiker who happily explored deserts, beaches, mountains and everything between.

Gig was a ham...

I'd say "Gig, go stand on that rock!"...and he would. Then he'd strike poses....usually a noble "hero" pose, look left, look right...

Even all my traveling wasn't enough to sate the Gig's wanderlust. Sometimes he went on walkabout. Once he ended up hanging out for part of the day with a parking lot attendant in his booth. Another time he wound up in the doctor's lounge in the basement of a hospital...I don't know how he got down there, but when I arrived to "rescue" him, he was on their lunch table...walking from doctor to doctor sharing their lunches. He spent a couple of days somewhere in a very bad part of Denver near my old house...a reward brought him back...but before that I walked every block of that "bad" neighboorhood knocking on doors and meeting some of the kindest strangers I'd ever encountered.

In Arizona he vanished one night...I searched most of the night and started again at dawn. I was heading toward the house for more "lost dog" flyers when i saw a truck driving slowly down the road. The older guy who was driving would stop in front of each house, point, and speak to his passenger. The passenger was Gig...and the driver was asking him which house he lived in. The gentleman said Gig had turned up at his house and "knocked" on the door. The guy let him in, offered Gig his favorite chair, cooked him dinner and, of course, let him sleep on the bed. Whith folks like this...who can blame the Gig for going "calling"? Nevertheless...he loved me best...and after every walkabout would leap excitedly into my arms as if to say "Where have YOU been?!"