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Rest In Peace Poor Little Jake
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Poor Little Jake Vargo
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Born 12/26/1991
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Died 07/17/2007
Poor
little Jake Vargo, known as "poor" because of the worried look he
often had on his shepherd/lab face, went to sleep for the last time
at the ripe old age of 15 ½. Jake was a trusty friend, and trail dog
to his family for many years. The last three or four years he has
happily been retired at the Vargo Cow Cottage, with his adopted
sisters, Sadie and Maggie Moore Ho Dog. Jake and Sadie were both
content to let the Ho dog carry on the trail dog tradition for the
Vargo family, and watch over the cottage. Two years ago Sadie moved
to her human brother’s house and a new exciting life. Jake missed
her, but preferred to stay with his human parents, and enjoyed an
occasional weekend visit from Sadie. Jake crossed over to the big
meadow in the sky Tuesday, July 17. His sister, Big Dog Jessie,
greeted him with leaps and bounds when he arrived. Jake's remains
will eventually be scattered near the high desert mountaintop near
Big Dog Jessie's, and together they will guard the backcountry.
In
lieu of flowers, biscuits, bones, or otherwise for Jake, the Vargo
family, humans, cats, dogs, birds, and goldfish, request that you
send a donation in Jake's name to Jake's favorite animal shelter in
the Owens Valley for the dogs that aren't as fortunate as he was:
ICARE
P.O. Box 76
Bishop, CA 93515
www.inyopets.org
In
addition to being a faithful companion and trail dog, Jake was well
known for his ability to write a good story, which we reprint as our
article of the month for August:
The Masonic Log
by
Poor Little Jake, Tour Guide Dog In Training
I can
remember it well. It was back in August of '92. I was just a young
fellow, all of 8 months old, actually, and quite fit and trim
compared to the potbellied pig of a dog I have become today. Big Dog
Jessie, my adopted sister, had just turned 3 years old. Our mother
and father were tour guides. Big Dog Jessie was a tour guide dog,
and I was a tour guide dog in training. We'd been on several day
trips in the western Mojave area, so I was already an expert at
romping through the creosote bushes with thunderous paw steps to
frighten any lizards, rattlers, or tarantulas that might be hiding
in them. I also had seen Big Dog Jessie chase after a few
jackrabbits, so I figured, I could probably handle that job pretty
good, too, when my turn came. I'd gotten over my tendency towards
carsickness, and I was learning to get over my fear of miniature
humans. I'd learned to lay at my father's feet as he gave the start
of the dirt road lectures before each trip, and did a good imitation
of Big Dog Jessie's tummy trick for everybody, as he talked, as
well. I even knew how to help my adopted sister as she people herded
everyone that went on the tours. We made quite a team, making sure
those humans didn't get lost, and got back in there 4x4's safely. I
was well on the way to being a good historical 4-wheel drive tour
guide dog.
Highway 14
It was
one of those hot summer mornings, even at 6AM. Mother and Father
grabbed our leashes and led us out of the house into the driveway
and to that burgundy Chevy Blazer we had at the time. Big Dog Jessie
jumped right in that old Blazer just like she always did, all by
herself. Mother had to give me a little boost, as even in those days
I was a little bottom heavy. It was harder to move around once we
got in there, the Blazer was really packed with stuff. But there
were lots of soft cushy places to sit on top of, too, so that was ok
with me. We nestled in our individual doggy spots, and were ready
for the long ride to Mojave. I couldn't wait to get out there and
find my own jackrabbit!
Mother
and father stopped at the old Reno's restaurant in downtown Mojave
for breakfast, as they often did. Big Dog Jessie and I protected the
Blazer from anyone that tried to peer in and look at us as we waited
in the parking lot. We also watched the freight trains as they
chug-a-lugged down the track, across from the highway. It was a
grand time, made even grander, because Mother had saved a fresh
baked country biscuit from her breakfast, and Big Dog Jessie and I
got to share it. We made sure we licked up every last crumb, so
father wouldn't yell at us for getting his vehicle dirty. Then we
realized that the engine was starting and we were back on the
highway headed for adventures.
Big
Dog Jessie and I watched as we drove past Jawbone and Redrock
Canyons. We got very excited as we approached the Opal Mine
turn-off. We knew we would be stopping soon, and we couldn't wait
for our paws to hit that warm desert sand! Oops, we soon realized
father missed the turn and he kept driving and driving and driving.
We passed Joshua trees, and creosote bushes, and more. Every once in
awhile we'd even pass little towns. We'd stop occasionally and get
to stretch our legs a bit, but we were never allowed off the leash,
the highway was just too close by. And we'd always get back in the
Blazer and drive further and further away from home than we had ever
been before.
Highway 395
Finally we got to a town, the biggest one we had seen in a long
while. Mother and Father took us out, unpacked a few bags, and they
showed us their home in this town. It was only one room, with a
couple of big beds, and a bathroom. Our old beat up doggie sleeping
bag was put on top of one of the beds, while Mother and Father took
the other one. We did all go out to dinner, then we came back and
spent the night in this one room. Big Dog Jessie and I slept well,
being tired from all that lazing around in the back seat of the
Blazer for hours on end.
The
following morning it was breakfast with another big old country
biscuit for us, this time from a restaurant called Whisky Creek.
Then everything was packed and we were off again on another long
drive. This was the longest time that Big Dog Jessie and I had ever
spent on a paved road. Where were we going, what were we going to
do?
We
drove through some mountainous area with some Jeffery Pine trees, We
saw some mountain peaks that father told mother were volcanoes -
mountains that exploded! There was black shiny rock that apparently
spewed out of those mountains when they exploded, and there was gray
sand, that wasn't sand at all, it was called pumice, and was real
strange to walk on when we were allowed to get out for awhile. That
came from those volcano mountains, too.
We
came to another town by a huge lake with a couple of islands in it.
The shore of the lake had what looked to Big Dog Jessie and I like
salt towers, or salt castles, but father said it was called tufa and
was protected. We watched gulls flying around the lake as we drove
past it and past the little town. Then after we'd gotten a ways past
the tufa lake, and were driving through some unusual rock
formations, we stopped right off the highway and looked down into
the remains of a town that we were very excited to find out was
called Dogtown. Father and Mother pointed at foundations left where
the town had once been, and talked about men who came and mined for
gold long ago. Big Dog Jessie and I looked anxiously down in to
Dogtown and back at our parents. Oh how we wished they would take us
down there, and let us play! But it wasn't to be. We were piled in
the Blazer once again, and drove on until we came to another town.
The Chemung Mill & The Town of Masonic
Instead of stopping at this next town, we drove a bit north and
then, oh thank goodness, Father was turning onto a dirt road at
last! " Look, Big Dog Jessie," I remember saying. " We are going to
do some 4-wheeling after all!" We drove till we came to the ruins of
an old mill, The Chemung Mill. We explored a little bit there,
around ramshackle old mining buildings and old equipment. A couple
of the buildings had been severely hit with that old metal eating
termite bug and the cocoons were just everywhere.
The
family got in the Blazer once again and continued on that relatively
easy dirt road, the dust kicking up behind us, but no one cared. We
came to the remains of another mill, and some well worn log cabins
practically hidden in the high desert growth. Father was slowing
down so we were sure we were going to stop and look here. We did for
awhile, and Mother read the words on the rock that described the
town of Masonic and it's mining heyday. Big Dog Jessie and I ran up
and down the nearby by road, with a cloud of dust bigger than the
Blazer had caused. We were here at last, and there was exploring to
be had by all.
Father
got in the Blazer and drove it down another little road. Mother
called Big Dog Jessie and I, and we followed on foot. We crossed a
little stream that muddied the road. I tiptoed across that stream as
best I could, for in spite of the Labrador side of my family, I was
not much for water or mud, even in my youth. Then I saw it - a
clearing with just enough trees for some shade. A ring for a
campfire, a nearby meadow to play in, that led to a hillside with a
mine, and more tumbled log cabins.. Father was stopping here, and he
was starting to take everything out of the Blazer.
Setting Up Camp
Mother
took one of the packages that Father had thrown on the ground, and
she began turning into a big fabric dog house. Actually, she called
it a tent, and it was just big enough for two sleeping bags for her
and Father, and just a space for Big Dog Jessie and I to sleep right
between them. This was called camping, my adopted sister told me. We
were going to spend the night right here in this meadow in the ghost
town of Masonic. Big Dog Jessie and I jumped up and down excited,
and ran around that meadow chasing each other and rolling in meadow
muffins. It was just delightful! And the best news of all was that
we wouldn't have to drive and drive afterwards, we would be sleeping
in that tent with those sleeping bags and our parents, all night
long, right out in the middle of nowhere!
As the
sun went down, Father had set up his little outside kitchen. He was
cooking something awfully yummy smelling on that antique Coleman
stove of his. The entire town of Masonic probably hadn't smelled
that good even when the miners were there. Mother sat up some old
aluminum lawn chairs for her and Father to sit on as they ate their
dinner. Big Dog Jessie and I had to suffice with our gourmet tender
doggy packets, and a big bowl of water. We were tied to a big long
fallen log near the campfire ring where we could keep warm as the
night air set in. Once in awhile we were tossed a tidbit from
Father's cast iron Dutch oven. It was damned near doggie heaven for
Big Dog Jessie and I.
Stories Around the Campfire
As the
stars began appearing over head, and the campfire began roaring,
Father grabbed a glass of wine and a cigar, sat down on the big log
that we were tied to. He drew a long puff on the cigar, and then he
began to tell us the story of Masonic. In the summer of 1860
prospectors belonging to the Masonic Lodge discovered promising
leads around Masonic Mountain where we were now camping. Strikes at
Aurora and Bodie were more important, however, and Masonic was soon
forgotten. On July 4th, the area was rediscovered and in production
by 1904. The mill we had played around earlier in the day was the
Stull Brothers Mill, also known as the Pittsburgh-Liberty. Father
pointed at the remains of a tramway on a hill above our campsite
that was used to connect the mill with the mine on the hill.
We
were fascinated by the gold mining history of Masonic and its
Pittsburgh-Liberty Mill, and Father had more stories to tell us, but
we were beginning to yawn and nod off as he spoke. Sensing that we
were two very tired dogs, after all our busy day of exploring around
Masonic, Mother, took us off our leashes. We perked up at being let
loose, and ran around the campground a few times more until Big Dog
Jessie found a discreet place to squat and take a leak. Always
wanting to follow my sister's lead, I found a spot a few feet away
from hers, and proceeded to squat and do the same thing. Then we
heard Mothers voice calling us, and we were soon bedded down for the
night. I decided to curl up inside Mother's sleeping bag, Jessie
slept on top of Father's. I can faintly remember Father's voice
outside the tent still at the campfire, pointing out the stars to
Mother.
As the
sun came up the next morning, Big Dog Jessie and I woke to find we
had been shoved out and off of the sleeping bags, and our parents
were cozy inside them. Father was snoring loudly as usual. We
whimpered and cried, and licked their faces, until they couldn't
stand it any more and decided to get up. The zipper of the tent was
opened, and we hurried out to do our business. Again I proceeded to
follow my sister and squat behind a small bush, as she always did. I
was always embarrassed to hear Father laughing when I did this, and
saying something like "When is that boy going to learn to take a
piss like a man?" I'd always come scampering back behind Jessie,
with my ears perky, and my tail wagging. I'd go to Mother and she'd
scratch my ears, and tell me I was a good little man in spite of
what Father had said
Explorations Around Masonic
Following breakfast, which Big Dog Jessie and I got to share, as
well, Father told us that we were going on a hike. Mother had a book
and she decided to stay back at the camp, but sister and I were
ready for explorations. We headed through the meadow, occasionally
stopping to smell a meadow muffin, then found our way up through the
thick brush and trees on the hillside. We were going to investigate
the mine. Father stuck his head in the entrance and it was sturdy,
so we proceeded to go inside. It was dark inside, but he had a
flashlight to lead the way. We hadn't gotten too far in, when bats
startled us, and we ran out as fast as we could. I was especially
afraid of the bats, so stayed outside, while Big Dog Jessie and
Father continued in. It apparently wasn't too far in, for after
awhile they were both back out and ready for more explorations.
We
hiked for a couple of hours, exploring every inch of Masonic. Father
was examining every remnant of a building, every artifact and shard.
Big Dog Jessie and I took in the high desert smells, and
occasionally chased a lizard. No luck in jackrabbits on this day. It
seemed no time, though, that Mother was calling us in for lunch. At
the sound of her voice, sister and I took off like a couple of
buffalo and headed through the meadow and back to camp. Right before
we got there, Big Dog Jessie found a private bush to squat behind. I
looked at her, and thought about it, but decided to get back to
Mother. Right before I got to where Mother was standing at the old
antique camping stove, I saw that big old long log that we had been
tied to the night before. I suddenly saw it in a new light, and
found myself drawn to it with an urge I had never had before. I got
closer to it, ignoring Mother with a piece of food in her hand. Some
great force of nature brought me even closer to that big old log
there at the camp at Masonic. I sniffed it, then suddenly found
myself lifting my leg and relieving myself on the log. Mother was
laughing, and Father was coming down across the meadow laughing,
"Look at that, Jake finally learned to piss like a man!"
A Man At Last
Now we
spent one more night at Masonic, before heading off to the ghost
towns of Bodie and Aurora. Mother and Father relaxed around the camp
while Big Dog Jessie and I were allowed to run around where ever we
chose, so long as they could see us. Occasionally, Big Dog Jessie
would find her bush to squat behind, but I, Poor Little Jake, as I
was and still am often called, I went to that log each time, and I
pissed like a man!
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Jake at
the Masonic Log |
Many
years have come and gone since our camp at Masonic. Big Dog Jessie
is old and gray around the muzzle and her hip gives out occasionally
from arthritis. I'd had a few years that I was so portly and even
more pot belly pigged looking, I could hardly get around the old
campgrounds any more and the altitude, bothered both my sister and I
am embarrassed to say. We now have a younger sister, a blonde twit
of a dog that won't ever be the great tour guide dog as Big Dog
Jessie and I were. We don't travel much now, accept on an occasional
day or overnighter. Masonic, with it's crumbling cabins, and shell
of a mill, are still there for others to see. For many years, the
campfire ring, and the big old log where I learned to be a man, were
still there as well.
Alas,
in recent years, when Mother and Father stopped in with a tour to
visit Masonic and tour the mine we now know of as the Ranger, they
were saddened to see that the infamous log of Masonic was gone. They
broke it to me gently when they came back home a few days later. I'm
disheartened that it's not there and I cannot go back one more time
to lift my leg upon it. I'll always wonder what happened to my first
log! I'm hoping that perhaps someone camped there one bitter cold
night and ran out of fuel for the fire. Perhaps after much thought
they decided it best to put that log to better use, so they could
keep warm until the morning sun came up and began to ease the
chilling air. I'll forgive them if it was an emergency of sorts, but
I'll always be saddened, because I longed for one last visit to that
old log at the ghost town of Masonic.
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