More dogs than people

We get into Ovando, MT this afternoon and stop by Trixi's, your quintessential small town bar/restaurant, for a bite to eat. The decor inside is rustic, hunting trophies overhead and old pictures of days long passed. I'd parked Bud outside, and he does his usual thing of getting up on the nearest picnic table and laying down. Well, seems that gets the attention of some of the patrons and buys him some credit with the owner cause she says he can come in. Bud's instantly the centre of the conversation. Everyone pays him the typical compliments while I work on scarfin' down a delicious burger. Bud's thrilled to be indoors, a luxury not often afforded him, but sadly the good times end abruptly when one of the fellows in the bar decides he doesn't care for me and makes it pretty clear that I'm not welcome. Shame. I guess there'll always be someone with a bone to pick. Fortunately, my experiences have shown that those are the exceptions, not the rule.

A little further on down the road Bud's delighted to find a deer leg. Since the thing's to cumbersome to chew on, he does the funniest thing by running on ahead 'bout 50 meters; then, he lays down to chew, waiting for me to catch up. Once I'm there he does it over again. This cycle continues for a while until his old nemesis (the ground squirl) reappears to provoke him with a squeaking taunt. Instantly, the deer leg is out of mind as Buddy goes charging after his foe--though this has been going on since we entered MT, he has yet to catch one of those little guys.

It starts raining pretty hard, and Bud does his moan, signaling that it's time to pitch the tent. Once inside, out of the inclement weather, he bellows his other moan, which I've taken to mean: 'I need a belly rub.'