The population of Vale, Oregon is 1548 souls. I suppose the net resident count is now 1549, since I've moved here. I remember the day when a person would drive into town and see a sign that said, 'Entering Vale, population 1892'. Babies are born here, but they mostly move as soon as they're old enough to need a job. The old people stay. They pay close attention to the obituaries, by far the most popular part of the local paper. One of our old-timers died last week so maybe the census count really is 1548. It's hard to keep track of week to week.
I rescued Dakota from the Idaho Humane Society in Boise. He's nine months old and still has quite a bit of puppy in him. Wonderful dog though! He has fit in well. Both Dad and I are really enjoying him. He's completely house broken, which makes things easier, and for the most part is well behaved in the house. He likes to chew on things so I've bought him the obligatory chew toys, which haven't lasted long. I finally got him a cows hoof. Now that's a chew toy! And Dakota knows it belongs to him.
This morning I got up and did my usual stuff, including taking care of Dakota, then decided to lay back down on the sofa and watch CBS Sunday Morning. I fell asleep for about an hour. When I woke up, there was that damned dog chewing on Dad's teeth! Totally obliterated them! This was at 9:15 a.m. My dad usually wakes up around 9:30. I immediately called my little brother, Todd, for moral support. "I'm in big trouble I told him!" "What? You been talking politics with Dad again?", he asked. "No, my dog chewed up his teeth and Dad doesn't know it yet." Of course Todd's response was to laugh, not just a little hee hee laugh, but the kind of belly laugh that just can't be stopped. "You little bastard!" I said. "I call you for moral support and this is what I get!" Between his gasps for breath, due to intense and uncontrolable laughter, he managed to ask me to call him back in an hour and let him know how it went! That little shit! No moral support here.
Dad really slept in this morning. Didn't get up until 10:45 a.m. I swear, that was the longest hour and a half of my life. He come out of his bedroom with his uppers in but no bottoms, acting like he didn't have a care in the world, looking for some coffee. "Dad, we have a problem." I said. I unwrapped his teeth from a paper towel and layed them on the table. "What's that?" he asked. "It's your teeth. The dog chewed them up." "Why that son-of-a-bitchin dog!" he said, before starting to laugh. My dad has a great sense of humor! Turns out that he had another set so I don't have to buy him baby food! He made one request. "Hell, tell people that I just went down to the mortuary and got another set!" Good thing we had that funeral in town last week.
