My job takes me to places far flung across northern Arizona. From Flagstaff, to Williams, to Tuba City, Kayenta, Chinle, Second Mesa, and Window Rock: the capitol of the Navajo Nation. I drive past some spectacular country, and some abject poverty. I’m constantly inspired by the beauty present in Navajoland and the Hopi mesas. The characters in “Little Lost Dogs” make their homes in Santa Fe, New Mexico, but much of my inspiration is drawn from the landscape and the people I meet here.
A three hour drive west, my dogs, Anaheim Bell and Ricardo Ancho are staying at a friend’s house, with his dogs. They’ve been playing happily all day, but about now they’ll have realized I’m not coming home tonight.
Two more hours south of our dogs is my wife, who is taking some much needed time with her family.
Another hour and a half south of my wife is our cat, who no doubt is kneading on blanket we got as a wedding present.
My internal clock says it’s almost 8pm, but here on the Rez, it’s almost 9. I’ve been driving and working all day, I’m already rambling, and I haven’t even started working on my NaNoWriMo story for the evening. If there’s a coherent point to be made here, I’m sure I’ve missed it. Perhaps it’s that I’m feeling stretched across an entire state this evening, which may explain why this post is more personal and less focused than the usual fare on this site. I’m looking for a connection somewhere.