An RV Tragedy.

It is very early in the morning here in Tucson and my hands are shaking so much I can hardly type.  I will pour myself another cup of tea and try to calm down.
I just learned for the umpteenth time why I do not like RV parks.  There are lots of silly reasons, starting with the fact that one may not open one's blinds without becoming the evening entertainment for the neighbors next door.  My daily exercise program is probably better than any TV comedy show.

 Parks are too crowded.  On a very warm night in one rv park I fell asleep serenaded by the snoring from my neighbor next door. The views are seldom worth a second glance and I am never tempted to break out my rocking lawn chair for an afternoon fresh air read.  Shade does not exist in these parks and the dustiness and noise are not conducive to relaxation.

(State park in Maine)

State parks, BLM parks, national parks and even rest stops offer better ambiance.

So, back to this morning.  While having my first cup of tea in this small but crowded rv park in the heart of Tucson, I suddenly heard the noise of snarling dogs, children screaming, and a man's voice shouting, repeatedly,  "No! Stop! No!"  Raising my blind I saw four or five dogs of varying sizes in a group, all following a larger yellow pit bull type dog that held something in his mouth.  The large yellow dog was shaking his head vigorously from side to side and that something looked like a small rag doll.  The doll turned out to be a miniature terrier type dog that I had witnessed playing with the children the night before.  The outcome of this grim event--with the children screaming while  onlooking neighbors stood passively in the doorways of their trailers and RVs--was not going to be good. The shouting man caught up with the pack, jumped on the back of the pit bull and, with great determination, pried the dog's jaws open.  At this point I had waded into the melee to grab the leash of a second small dog that I feared would be lunch for some of the other, out-of-control dogs, in the pack.  I am well-aware now that it was hardly a smart move on my part but I did not even think--I only reacted.  Moving away from the scene I turned to see the man angrily leading his dog away by the collar.  The children with (I assume) the small terrier disappeared around one of the large trailers.  In a few minutes a neighbor arrived to take the leash I had been holding, from my hand and lead her dog away.  In minutes the man appeared again in his pickup truck. He climbed out of the truck holding a small basket,  disappeared in the direction the children had taken, then reappeared to carefully lift the basket into the front seat of his pickup.  And he drove away.
The park is quiet now, the children are not around, the doors of the RVs and trailers are closed, the other dogs have dispersed back to their individual homes.  And I feel like crying.


I could expound further on the dangers of a pit bull in a small crowded area, about the negatives of RV parks, about the neighbors that let their dogs run free then 'choose not to get involved', about the fact that Thanksgiving is almost here and the temperature is still in the 80s, about the absurd election, and more.  But I won't.
That is not why I live in an RV!

(my dear friend, Bailey)

Until this morning my return to Tucson has been only positive.  I parked at friends, Suzie and Bill's house, so I could dog-sit their wonderful Bailey while they went to Colorado.  

I spent a blissful night at Cracker Barrel then drove, in the morning, to my favorite parking place on the edge of the desert and watched the hot air balloons skirt along the mountains.

 There have been lunches with good friends and more to come.  And best of all, a visit to the cardiologist affirmed that Babe (my new heart valve) is performing as she should and  I am in good health.  I only wish the same for that tiny terrier.