I knew I could not keep the dog – I was getting ready to move to Alaska. I do not know how I learned about the Flyes. I do know that I took the dog there late at night – I must have had my mustard colored Toyota and someone else drove it to their place, which was out in the country.
That someone else was not Milt. I wish that I had written all this down because suddenly it is all important to me. It could have been my bicycling friend, Dave, but I don’t recall that he could drive. A puzzler, for sure.
The Flyes were delighted to have Black Dog who they renamed Cully, after my last name, Culhane. He lived until 1995, which means he was 15 years old – so he did have a good, long, happy life.
I had not thought at all about this incident until the Flyes reminded me. I think that I most likely put the story out of my mind because I knew the dog then had a very good home.
In 2002 I was living in Butte, Montana and Rainbow followed me to Fairmont Hot Springs. I ditched her, but through a series of events she became ours. And in 2006 we adopted Jenna, who had been abandoned by her people. And in 2013 we acquired Ryder, who someone dumped at a trailhead in Idaho.
Dogs have a way of finding me. I do wonder if there is going to be another one in my future. Hard to say. There does seem to be a pattern here.
Next: 269. 9/29/17: Movement Begets Movement