Wednesday, March 7, 2012

Hunter -- Adolescence

Hunter -- The Early Years

Yo.  So, where was I?  I forgot since I've been busy digging to china in the front yard.  I don't even know why, I've never been a digger.  But this hole I created has me fascinated.  And it's fun to track mud through the house, that drives Dave insane and it makes me laugh to myself.  But never out loud.  At least not while he's near the jar of dog treats in the kitchen.  He keeps whining about how he's sick this week b/c of MTM.  Doesn't he know that dogs lick all sorts of things and never get sick?  Humans, they are so weak.

Anyway, I was talking about leaving Kelly's pad on Brookhaven and moving to Redwood Crest.  I left Sean behind then too, I sort of forgot about that.  The 3 boys, now that was living.  Sean left food out for me all the time, and Kelly was my first and only master.  In fact, it was a lot like it is now, with the 3 guys at Melba.  You see, I'm a boy dog.  Sure I'm down for hero humping once in a while, but I'd much rather throw a few dog bowls back with the boys than worry about my emotions or what to eat for dinner or if the carpet matches the drapes.  But I will make one exception.  Lachael.  Oooooh do I love Lachael.  You see, she was a stay at home person.  Not a mom, not an employee, but a just-plain-stay-at-home-and-spend-quality-time-with-Hunter type.  If I had to create the perfect woman, it'd be Lachael.  Because she was always around.  Always.  She never left me like Dave did, to go ride his bike to work, geek out, and ride his bike home.  Nooo, Lachael would not do that to me.  I was so darn pissed when Dave kicked her out.

But I guess all good things must come to an end.  Which is exactly what I was thinking when we left Vista, yeah, like this new plan is really going to work.  I mean, why would you leave a cookie cutter home in a militant HOA for some silly sense of freedom and independence?  Mike was a mile away, he'd come get me on Fridays when he worked from home.  Kelly and Moira were less than 3 miles away.  I had it made.  But, noooooo, Dave had to go find a girl who worked too far south to live in Vista.  I tried to get Kelly and Mike to tell him he was making a bad decision, but he just didn't listen to me.  He took us to Solana Beach and into the freezer.

Ah, but when one door closes, another opens.  Losing Lachael was heartbreaking for me, but in return I gained two things.  First, I now had piles upon piles of clothes on the floor to sleep on, some semi-clean, most fairly-dirty, all of them with cool smells.  Second, I met ABW.  At first I thought, what could be better than a self employed, stay-at-home, no-kids roommate like Lachael?  And it wasn't until ABW came to visit that I knew the answer.  An alcoholic!  You see, there isn't anything a dog loves more than lying around on the floor and forgetting what you were doing.  And that's precisely what alcoholics tend to do as well.  And the best part is that they keep roughly the same hours as we dogs do.  So, we had a grand old time.  I think we both cried when it was time for him to leave.

There were a few notable events during my time in Solana Beach (aka "the freezer").  The first was when Joanna left the front door open and I wandered out on my tour of the neighborhood with the intent of finding some fish in the lagoon for lunch.  The mail lady found me and wound up calling Kelly because that was the phone number on my tag.  Good thing I can always count on Kelly to have my back.

I call it the freezer because the windows were maybe 1mm thick and with the lagoon right there, and being on the north side of a hill, it never got above 40 degrees.  I had to have a heated bed and a blanket to survive the nights.  Now it just so happens that the year I lived in Solana Beach was also the year the Chargers made it to the AFC championships.

I remember the excitement of the win over the colts, where Dave screamed like a madman, ran out the front door, yelled down the street, and into the back yard for more yelling.  I thought something was truly wrong.  And I guess it was because both LT and Rivers got hurt that game.  I felt their pain and decided I too should self destruct.  So, I licked up a tiny piece of bicycle derailleur wire that Dave had left on the floor while working on his bike.  It was thinner than a needle and it lodged in my pylorus.  That was Thursday.  The next morning, I puked up my breakfast on my morning walk.  Dave took me to the vet that afternoon who had an ultrasound tech on site for some other reason and they identified the wire somehow and confirmed it on an x-ray.  But it was too late for them to do anything about me.  Dave was busy bawling his eyes out in the shower at work that day, and that night he took me to the emergency vet where they cut me open and removed the wire.  Sorry about that bill, Dave, but you know damn well I'm worth way more than $5000.  And you didn't even have to pay all of it because good samaritan Roger, fresh off finding his way to the bible, along with Joe and Tina all chipped in to help out.  I was resting comfortably by Saturday and able to have visitors on Sunday morning while you were out at the Carlsbad marathon.  We didn't get to watch that game together, but the stupid Patriots won anyway which is how it always is for us Charger fans.  I was much happier being sedated through that experience, otherwise I would have had flashbacks to 2006's Martyball failure in the divisional round.

Well, after that whole wire experience and the brutal cold winter, I was ready to turn over the Solana Beach pad to the potheads who rented it after us.  The lagoon was fun, and having tons of space and playing house certainly didn't bore me, but I'm a beach dog.  I mean, seriously people, this is San Diego, life is all about the beach.  So, when it came time to move again, I overlooked the fact that the house selected was on the Encinitas skunk migration path and decided, what the hell, let's do this thing!

No comments:

Post a Comment