In the backs of pickup trucks the dogs of New Mexico sniff the wind, ears pointing toward the sky like mountains, tails pumping the air. When the trucks park, these dogs do not jump out, but sit in the center of a space they know, and wait trusting. Often, they are in the parking lot of the supermarket as the sun sets over the distant ridges. They do not howl to their brothers in the canyons as night drops around their furry shoulders. They watch without anxiety those of us who are also on our way home.