Nate & Rosie

My last stop in Montana was at the final I-90 rest stop before entering Idaho.

I was walking around having a cigarette when I noticed a fat guy at the restroom pavilion. He was sitting there with a large black dog and a 'Need Gas Money' cardboard sign. I assumed he had a car somewhere about, so I strolled a bit and found a rather disheveled old Subaru with Montana license plates. Two fishing poles were evident, as well as the usual car trash associated with someone living in their automobile.

I figured, this guy can't be all bad, so I walked back and initiated a conversation. It was then I also saw he had an oxygen tank and breathing tube. His name was Nate and his dog's name was Rosie.

We chatted for quite awhile. The fifty-something dude, had a basic 'down on his luck' story, and confessed of many bad decisions in his life that led him there. He also admitted to being a casualty of the "War on Drugs" and a former hippy from the battlefield of Haight-Ashbury. He was personable, honest, and straightforward. He had no excuses, and regretted wasting much of his life. Now, his goal was to make up for it and spread what good will and love he could, and become a useful member of society.

At first he asked me if I was a teacher. I said, I had been...in a way. I guess after a few of my questions, he later asked if I was a writer. I replied I was writing a bit, mostly online. He seemed more satisfied with that response.

I told him I didn't have any money for gasoline, but I had $5 for dog food. I said, "Rosie's gotta eat, too." He shined a big grin as I handed him a fiver and said, "Rosie, go say 'Hi and thank you' to the nice man!", and she did. She walked right up and plopped her big head in my lap, tail a-wagging. I am such a sucker.

It was about that time when a young, attractive, and rather buxom blonde, gal showed up to ask Nate, "Do you mind if I give your dog a treat?"

Nate had no problem with that. She went back to her car, and came back with a rawhide doggie treat and her own big mutt, which looked like a Shepard/husky mix. Old Rosie ignored the treat nudging it away with her nose, and then crawled submissively towards the new dog; an obvious male. The mutts flirted a bit.

And then with a quick "G'bye!", the blonde left as her dog then dragged her off to the potty area.

Shortly thereafter, I wished Nate and Rosie good fortune, and returned to the road.

It was the only time during my road trip I regretted Aleksandra was a cat and not a dog.