Primitive Instinct: The Journey Home

When the light started to fade, I wasn’t entirely sure how long we walked. Well, I walked. Diesel pranced. Being a husky mix, the dog had some thick fur and it often made him miserable in Texas weather. This snow, however, was what he was made for, and he was having a blast until he barked once, signaling that he found something I might find interesting. Usually, that was some kind of garbage stuck in the weeds or a broken hair tie on the ground, but occasionally he did come across gold, like the lost bracelet that the owner paid me three hundred bucks for finding. Diesel got a new chewy toy, some fancy treats, and a new bed that wasn’t clumpy from going through the washer.

This time, his find came in the form of shelter. The snowfall had picked up significantly as we walked and the six inches that had been on the ground already had turned into eight, then ten, then over a foot, shockingly fast.

“Good boy, Dies,” I praised him and gave his head a good rub between the ears.

It wasn’t exactly a cave, because it didn’t go into the earth deep enough. More like a big hole left behind when a softer part of the soil fell out or whatever. I didn’t care how it came about or what it was called, though. I was going to call it homebase until I figured out where I was and how I was going to get out of this wintry hellscape.

Whatever formation this was, it was deep enough to have been protected from the previous snowfall and the current one. It would serve for now, but should a wind pick up, it would likely be useless thanks to the wide mouth.

I walked over the back wall and dropped my bag, sitting beside it with a sigh as Diesel shook snow from his fur. I called him over to help him get rid of the heavy clumps that had collected on his belly fur and tossed them out before relaxing for a second.

“Trudging through snow is a hell of a workout, huh?” I looked at Diesel as he curled up nearby.

He was a great dog and affectionate, but he didn’t like to be touched when it wasn’t on his terms. Being a shelter dog had done him very few favors in the psychological department and it took us the better part of two years to work through his little quirks. The only time he slept next to me was when there were fireworks involved, or I was bawling my eyes out. This is why I paid hefty prices for the good dog beds. After God only knows what happened to him that led to him being in the shelter at the ripe old age of four months old and the three failed adoptions over five months, he deserved something soft and comfy to lay on at night.

“So, Dies. Any thoughts on where we are?” I asked and he laid his head on his tail, blinking slowly. “Yeah. Me, neither. I thought about something as we were walking, though. There wasn’t any sign of someone putting us out here. No footprints, drag marks, or tracks of any sort. We weren’t out there long before we woke up, because neither of us were that wet from our body heat melting the snow and the snow that was already there fell before we were there, because none was on top of us.”

He breathed out heavily and closed his eyes, opting for a nap instead of listening to me. Typical. I’d have to break out his kibble soon. He’s been eating snow clumps the whole way here, so I wasn’t overly concerned about water, which was great because I’d need it sooner than later.

After I rested for a bit, I sat up and started unpacking my bag to take inventory of what I had. A flashlight, a lightweight tent barely big enough for me and Diesel to squeeze into, a thin wool blanket, some socks and undies, military-grade protein bars and trail mix, a lighter, canteen of water, a bit of cord, my survival knife, the compass, Diesel’s baggy of kibble that he was very interested in, and a chewy toy that I held up and gave him a look.

“Seriously? I said essentials, Dies,” I said, and he just wagged his tail and waited for me to toss the toy for him to chomp away on. “I suppose with your penchant to destroy furniture, a chewy is an essential, but I meant essential for outdoors, not the apartment.”

I had discovered very early in our life together that Diesel was a chewer. Three table legs and two chairs later, I replaced my dining table with metal and started the search for a line of chewy toys that could withstand his chomping. Once he got more comfortable with me, the nervous chewing stopped and the happy chewing started, meaning I could stop looking for the indestructible and get simply durable, but Diesel chewed like a fiend.

I shook my head as he went to town on the chewy and looked over my supplies. Rudy would have scolded me for grabbing the tent, but I was going out into the wild for a break from the stresses of survival. I wasn’t expecting to end up... wherever I was, knee deep in snow.

“Well, we aren’t completely fucked,” I told Diesel as he growled softly at the chewy before biting on it particularly hard. “None of the wood around here is going to be dry, so making a fire is going to suck. The tent is practically useless in this weather, but it’ll be better than nothing if we can’t find better shelter if and when a storm comes through. Snow is good for water in desperate times, should it come to it. My concern is the food. Hiking in wet forest doesn’t require a lot of calories, but hefting through such deep snow is going to zap me fast. This won’t last me long and it doesn’t matter where we are. Snow means less wildlife. We might get lucky with some snares, but it won’t matter if there’s no fire to cook with and you might find raw meat appealing, but I don’t. Not to mention I have zero faith in your ability to hunt for your own food, so I’m going to have find food for both of us.”

I opened the bag of kibble and dumped a small bit on the ground, making Diesel drop the toy and come eat his dinner. I ate half a protein bar as I packed the bag again, keeping the blanket out and slipping a pair of socks over my freezing hands. I sipped a bit of water before putting that away, too.

“I’m not looking forward to tonight. Just be warned that you are so going to be the little spoon,” I told my dog after he finished eating and laid down once again. He just groaned at me and closed his eyes.