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| Calm before the storm |
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A peaceful scene outside of High River, Alberta
The view through my camera's viewfinder is one of water everywhere. Parked cars and trucks up to their roofs in water, cement trucks almost covered and stacked cement culverts performing their jobs while still in the cement yard.
 
I can't stop clicking as each turn in the road shows more destruction brought on by the rushing waters of the High, Bow and Elbow Rivers, near Calgary, Alberta. The radio says the river will not crest until noon and that the people of Calgary have pioneer spirits and are resilient.
Our crossing into Canada went surprisingly well. In the past we had worried about having an apple or an orange on board, now there were guns, ammo and our tag along friend . Bucky's worry that we might be inspected and need to unwrap our carefully wrapped trailer were unnecessary. Nothing was asked about its contents. It was also unnecessary to worry about any Vodka that may have been cleverly stored in gallon water jugs, a past stunt that would be just too risky now a days. Today, we sat slightly beneath the border crossing window, three pairs of eyes looking up as a large smile crossed the border guard's face. Fisher sat quiet and attentive between Bucky and I , possibly a learned response from getting a biscuit at the bank drive through. Our papers were reviewed.
"Who trained this dog?", asked the inspector.
Neither Bucky nor I commented, although knowing that it was Carlisle and I who had taken Fisher to Hand 'n Paw Obedience School. While there, we were both amazed by her proficiency. She quickly and effortlessly mastered each command, and when finished, asssumed a look of boredom and distaste for a fellow classmate, a loud Norwegian Elkhund, who required "extra help" learning the simplest of commands. Empathy has never been a strength of Fisher's.
"She is so quiet", continued the inspector.
Bucky and I both commented on her noticeable lack of barking, a howl now and then, but rarely a full fledged bark. We were appreciative of this at this particular moment. but could clearly remember a time when a small bark would have saved much time and energy.
Carlisle had suggested that we exercise Fisher by running her attached to the 4 wheeler as neither of us are much for jogging. So, one summer night, just before dark, Bucky hitched her to the handle bars and set off. Without warning, as if posessed by the devil, Fisher left the road, sending both Bucky and the 4 wheeler into the ditch. She was gone, dragging her length of rope with her. Bucky returned to the house for his head lamp and began his search. Calling her name as he went, he headed in the direction where he had last seen her bushy white tail disappear into the night. When he did find her, it was only by luck as his head lamp hit upon her eyes in the darkness. There she sat, quiet as a mouse, wound tightly around a maple tree.
The inspector went on to tell of his dislike of yappy "travel" dogs, leaning out from the driver's window, barking loudly making it impossible for him to converse with the occupants of the vehicle. With this said, our papers were returned to us and we quietly drove into Alberta. When out of sight, I walked to the back of the Hawk and took a treasured Beggin Strip from its pouch and handed it to a quietly waiting Fisher.
Moving up the highway we pass High River, Alberta where the High River (hmmm) has left her banks leading to an evacuation of the town by helicopter and, what else, but farm combines. Two confirmed dead.
 Outside of Calgary, I click pictures madly as we pass the Bow River with her nonexistent banks. The radio says that not since 2005 has anything like this been seen.   A deer lies stranded on a watery island.  Traffic is crawling along and most exits into the city are closed. I mention to Bucky the dedication of these Canadians to be heading into work when the city is in such a state. As we crawl along, a pleasant looking man in a white pick-up pulls up next to us and lowers his window. "You should have brought a boat !" A comment clearly referring to the trailer we're dragging but one to which Bucky would like to respond, "About what?" (I guess you really had to be there) He speaks of having never seen anything like this in all the years that he has lived in Calgary. Memorial Drive running through the heart of the city is flooded, over 100,000 people already evacuated, the Stampede grounds underwater with the Calgary Stampede less than two weeks away. The radio warns people to stay home and not to go into the city. Restaurants are offering free meals to those in need and the people of surrounding towns are offering rooms to those in need. I watch as the white pick-up speeds away as traffic starts moving and notice cars looking boat like exiting, heading for downtown.   
Heading into Calgary !
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