SCENE SEVEN

The trip was full of amazing revelations. As with humans, dogs are extremely in touch with their immediate interactions, but far more in tune to the surrounding reality.  We have been programmed to absorb the false premises; spoon fed us by the global elite.  It is interesting to watch the way an entity, unaffected by the political and economical pirates, responds to outside stimulus.

If you think for one minute we are not being manipulated on a colossal scale.  Follow a dog for a week.  They neither consume the crap on TV nor understand the daily subversive news.  We are being steered like a battleship.  If an iceberg should be in our path, the information will not be made available.  The navigators of society could care less about our outcome.  No, let me correct that.  Anything that might inhibit the demise of the American freedom lover has to be stymied.  Anyway I digress into another important aspect of life, enough of America’s planned destruction and back to my story.

We arrived in Montana with little preplanned property search in mind.  We wandered areas of majestic timberland to areas of deforested devastation.  A great portion of southwestern Montana has been savaged by wildfires intermittently over the last eight or ten years.  The government saviors have left the land in a deserted stagnated lifeless topography.  No bailouts or zero interest loans, just desert, where once stood acres of huge lumber and carbon dioxide consuming plant life.

Once again, I apologize for my scattered thoughts.  It is difficult to separate the daily events of an individual with the on slot of government destruction being implemented on a minute by minute basis.

We wandered Nevada and Idaho with little desire to slow and search for available settlements.  The states had intermittent pristine lands, beautiful but the land predominantly government owned.  That does not mean, “This land is your land this land is my land”; it means, the global elite have control of this enormous area of our great Republic.

Rusty, was impressed with Montana, the open land with no populated masses, but failed to see the appeal of acreage with no wildlife to expose, chase, or search out by smell.  We wandered about several properties, with unimaginable views.  The properties resembled Arizona or New Mexico desert, not forested timberland.  Potential rural living?  Absolutely.  Will I live long enough to see timber on desert land declared timberland, unluckily.  Thank you bureaucrats, keep the banker money flowing, pay no attention to the country you are destroying.

Traveling into Washington, we experienced snow.  Unlike the human sensation of cold, in my opinion a dog is oblivious to cold.  To walk onto a frosty, powdered surface for the first time is a very interesting event.  After stopping and roaming the off-road areas of two mountain passes, we were both convinced that part time snow covered land would be acceptable.

We settled into northeastern Washington for a couple of days to examine property possibilities.  Upon two property exploratory trips, we witnessed deer, roaming and grazing at the roadside edge.  Our passing car seemed to be more an irritation than an avoidable distraction.  The deer could have cared less about our presence.  We a topped a hill and wandered onto an available property.  After several minutes of exploration, I wondered what happened to Rusty.  Needless to say, he had found a rotting deer hide that he desired to make love to.  After several minutes of foreplay, I pulled Rusty away to search for less smelly interactions.

After experiencing true timber and forested surroundings, and chasing a pair of, what looked to be fifty-pound wild turkeys, we were both convinced this was definitely the location of a retirement land search.  We left Washington with a definite agenda for a return search within the next few months.

Our visit with the kids involved, not only multiple cats (at my sons house) but a dog who was the sole owner of a location we intended to spend a few nights (at my daughters house).  My daughter, Leslie arranged to have the dog meeting at a local park.  The meeting was perfectly orchestrated and resulted in a near uneventful stay at the daughter’s residence.  The son, Russell, kept his cats in the house and a stay in the garage resulted in only one drastic encounter, when Rusty decided to chase one of the errant kitties and found out they were armed and dangerous!

Though not accustomed to riding in a car, in my next blog post you will see Rusty is willing to be uncomfortable, in order to be in the presence of his newly acquired partner, friend or Dad! Please stay tuned for the chronicle of Rusty’s first “call-out.”

The information war will continue.

Signing out,

West Coast American Imperial Resistance