Looking for contacts

Okay, all you chukar hunters, bare with me on this one. I’m looking to find some available chukar hunters to save my butt. I’ve recently noticed that I am losing my mind. I need some people to put on my contact list for my SPOT device. For those who aren’t familiar with SPOT, it’s a satellite transponder (I think that’s the right word) that I can send a message to my contacts on my progress on a hunt.

I can push a button that tells everyone I’m Okay or some other form of preset message. I can also push the SOS button to get emergency help from the big guys. Something like a heart attack or a fall down a steep slope and broke my back would be a good excuse for the SOS button. A third option is a notification to my contacts that I need help but not the emergency type. All of these options give my coordinates so I can be found.

Now, why would I need some contacts and why the sudden worrying? Here goes.

Today I was in town visiting my daughter’s grave and from there I was headed for a soccer game at Rocky Mountain High School. I turned on a road that I thought would take me through a subdivision and to the school. 30 minutes later I found myself at the same spot I had started. I was lost. Had it not been for the road sign I was familiar with I wouldn’t have known if I was headed west or north. I turned on the familiar road and at the next intersection I realized I had gone the wrong way. Now with all the new center concrete on the roads I couldn’t just turn around and I had to turn right and than right a mile further and yet another right a mile after that. Finally a mile and a half further I was at the parking lot. I missed the first ten minutes of the game and I had no clue of where I had been.

,At the game I explained what had happen to Barb and Conner. That was a big mistake because all I got from them was a big laugh. I quickly realized how much I could count on them as my contacts. They’d probably laugh when I might be lost in the mountains.

It came to me that my mind was slipping after the soccer game. I was headed home and stayed on the major roads I was familiar with when suddenly I realized I had missed my turn three miles back. The only reason I even caught myself was the huge lottery sign on the side of the road. As I was thinking,” man that’s a lot of money” I wondered where that sign had come from. I never saw it before. Skirting my way through all the concrete devices I finally got back to Highway 55 and made it home. So the hand writing is in the sky. Larry is losing it. If he can’t even find his way with road signs, how is he going to make it in the hills? And who is going to care any way? I haven’t been bringing much meat home lately. What good am I? The only thing that might save me is that Barb loves the dogs. I think she’d try to find me just for their sake.

So if there are any takers out there, I need some contacts. Someone who might care to save an older human in distress. Someone with some compassion. Who knows, maybe some day I might be lost out there without my dogs.