Walt's Corner

17 years ago, the sweetest Cockapoo was bornt. We wouldn’t know about her until 2012, when we were looking for a small dog to be a sister to our OG (Original Girl), Dolly. El Paso had this store called The Saddle Blanket, though it has been long gone since then. The Humane Society or Animal Rescue League would hold adoption fairs at The Saddle Blanket from time to time. This would be the first time we met Abby. We wanted to adopt her but then at the last minute they said no, we couldn’t. They just realized she had already been adopted out.

A few weeks later as we were at the shelter, still looking, there she was again. Abby had been returned. The reason? Did not play well with children. Knowing Abby now the way we do, we know that was a damned lie! Abby was a sweetheart to everyone. Kids. Adults. It didn’t matter.

Even though we adopted Abby for Dolly, Dolly would never play with her. Not for lack of trying. Abby tried and tried to get Dolly to play-fight with her; chase her around. Dolly would have none of it. It wouldn’t be until Bailey entered the picture that Dolly entered the fight. And what amazing fights they were! Glorious battles fought out at Casa Basil Cigar and Whiskey Lounge. Almost every night there would be wrestle-mania-worthy fight for about 25 minutes.

Abby and Dolly would fight over moths. Not play fighting either. They both wanted the moth. On warm summer nights I’d bat a moth out of the air and it would go flying down to the ground. They’d both pounce it. Same with crickets. They loved trying to catch crickets.

Abby was also a hugger. You couldn’t hold her like a normal dog. She would force her way to where her belly was against your chest and she would wrap her paws around your neck – both sides – and hug you. Every time she would encounter a new vet or groomer, they would all say the same thing, “Oh my! She’s a hugger!”

Abby’s fur was as velvety-smooth as the Velveteen Rabbit. Abby’s heart was made of gold. She would see the turtle struggling with trying to crawl over the landscaping bricks to get into the shrubbery bed, and she would run over to nudge the turtle right over into the bed.

Over the last year her endurance rapidly diminished. The duration and lengths of her walks declined. She’s the only dog that has hiked Dog Canyon Trail with us. Her hips were sore afterwards. She went legally blind, lost most of her hearing, and arthritis claimed her joints. The last few days she really went downhill. Wouldn’t (couldn’t?) eat. I even tried to give her some ribeye last night. No dice. She smelled it and turned her head. She was about to starve to death. It was time to make that decision.

Eating. That was probably the biggest difference between when Dolly went versus Abby. Dolly ate up to the last minute! We even got her a cheeseburger and nuggets on the way to the vet. I even brought along a piece of chocolate. That forbidden fruit for dogs. Hey, she’s gonna be dead by night’s end. Let her enjoy some fuckin’ chocolate. But once that ball started rolling, I forgot all about the chocolate. So I ate it myself afterwards. Not Abby. She hadn’t eaten in 3 days and still wouldn’t eat steak.

Abby’s final camping trip with us was to Three Rivers Campground in the Lincoln National Forest. She seemed to have so much energy there. She even walked through the river. She loved water – rivers and lakes. Loved swimming. In her blindness, when we would pick her up and just hold her over the floor, she’d do the doggy paddle. Just in case we were going to throw her in a lake, I guess.

You were the sweetest girl, Abby. You brought many smiles to us and complete strangers. We’ll miss you.

Note: Though this post appears to be a new one, it is not. With the passing of Abby, our 17-year-old Cockapoo, I’m putting together her eulogy and discovered that somehow Dolly’s had disappeared. Luckily, I kept a text version of it and I’m re-posting it here but I have no way of putting it where it belongs chronologically. This would have been originally posted January 19, 2024. I still miss her like crazy.

It was with a sad and broken heart that we decided to put our Dolly-girl down. A long-haired Chihuahua and rescue dog.

This morning was the first of forever where I won’t look up from the dining room island and be startled to see see 2 beady black eyes staring at me, as if saying, “Yo. Bitch. Where’s my dental dental treat?” Because that started every morning. We are creatures of habit, dogs included. Recently, in her old age, she would forget that she already got up and had one. Then she would act like we were withholding treats from her. Stare at us and low-growl.

We got her when she was 4 years old. She started life as a stray, ended up in an animal shelter, then transferred to a foster home, and that is how she ended up in our family. We had just bought our house and were looking for a small dog. The foster family volunteered their time to assist in adopting out dogs from places like PetSmart – which is where I found her. She must have been with that family for a little while, because the kids were sad to see her adopted. One was crying. The Mother tearfully gave her a last hug and called her “Monkey.” That was what they called her. I made it a point to call her that every so often. Just to keep the name familiar to her, and possibly (hopefully) remind her of the interim family she had.

The lady warned us. She’ll try to escape. She’s a regular Houdini. Cages can’t keep her in. She’ll get through/over/under your wall gates. Sure enough. She did all the above. She was the master at escaping crates. She could bend them and wiggle her way out. She could leap over gates. I ended up having to zip tie all the sides of a crate together to keep her from escaping. She tried to run out the front door every opportunity she had.

Once, she ran down the road with a pair of my underwear wrapped around her head. Eventually the crate was no longer needed and her escape attempts became passive.
She enjoyed our “leftover” taco we saved for her every Friday night we ate at Gil’s. She could drool upon command when I would tell her, “Today’s Friday, gurrrrrl! You know what that means! We’re gonna go to Gil’s tonight and bring you back a taco!” To this day I still refer to it as Gil’s because, well, the girls just wouldn’t understand the name change. As Dolly gained her sisters over the years, that taco had to be split 3 ways.

She especially enjoyed camping and hiking up in the Lincoln National Forest, near Cloudcroft, NM. The cool temperatures, green grass, and trees would rejuvenate her old soul and she would run and gallop through the grassy meadows as if she were 10 years younger. But then she would sleep for hours.

We almost lost her a few years ago but pulling a bunch of teeth saved her life that time. Weird how dental hygiene affects overall health. We got 4 more years out of her than I expected to.
By this year, she had gone mostly deaf. Cataracts had taken all but blurs and shadows from her vision. Just this week she was no longer able to get around on her own power. Up until the end, she suffered no pain that was apparent to us. As she became less mobile and the more we had to pick her up for placement, the more it was becoming painful for her.

It is said that our Best Friends lives are but a part of ours, but we are their whole life. Our OG, Original Girl, will be sorely missed but never forgotten. She left this world with her little head in my hand, which became just a little heavier as she went.

Who’s a good girl?

Is this Prison Rules, as in, after finishing up a game of Spin-The-Bottle, the loser gets the bottle shoved up his ass while the stuffer yells, “PRISON RULES, BIATCH?” Or does this imply that living in prison is the absolute best, as in, it rules? After spending an evening in a jail cell at the early age of 4, I decided prison was not the life for me.

Prison is what kept me from killing a lot of people. But now? Prison doesn’t sound so bad, does it? Three square meals a day. No bills. No responsibilities. No taxes. Free healthcare. Free education. Libraries. Mail call. Conjugal visitation. Finding Jesus if it so inclines you.

From an early age we are groomed to have an aversion to the prison system. My father would threaten to use his contacts to get me in jail. Who was his contact? His dad. My paternal grandfather. He happened to be the Sheriff of Montcalm County, Michigan. I got to spend what seemed like an evening in the slammer thanks to that relationship, but I’m sure it was mere moments instead. I was thrown in the cell. Door slammed shut. The metallic sound of locks engaging. A darkness you could feel not dissimilar to a damp, heavy fog. The only light coming from a 5 by 5 inch security window in the door. I screamed. I ain’t afraid to admit it. I was assured that this would be my permanent view if I didn’t change my evil ways.

Turns out I would not, in fact, change my evil ways. Nor would that become my permanent view. Although as I was growing up I heard how “easy” it was in prison. These guys get a free education. Art classes. Workshops. On top of this, prisoners experience none of the civilized world’s responsibilities. No fear of losing your employment. Wondering where your next meal would come from. Not having the money to meet your next mortgage, car note, or insurance premium. Shit. Almost sounds like life in the Army before being complicated with marriage and moving out of the barracks. That time when you ran out of money one day after payday but it didn’t matter. You still had a bed to sleep in, your next meal at the chow hall, and “free” healthcare!

Prison almost sounds welcoming. Except for becoming someone’s bitch. Or being shanked. So, yeah. Maybe I’ll still avoid prison. For now.

One of the passing lamps on my motorcycle burned out. These lights are not required – just additional accessories. But still. I like to have maximum light flowing in front of me giving every other box driving fool the best chance of seeing me and not running me over.

I thought to myself, I should take this opportunity to replace them with some LED lights. Brighter. Lasts longer (or so they say). Not too expensive. Amazon had nice pair for around $13. Installed them and they worked and looked great! Except for one thing. Like George Costanza coming out of a cold pool, those LED passing lamps made my halogen bulb feel inadequate. Look at that shit! Ain’t no way I can ride around looking like that.

My next thought was, guess I’ll use this opportunity to upgrade my main headlamp to LED. Gulp! $150? Once again I opened my wallet and placed that order. Arrived last night. Easy little pull and swap.

Not only does it make me more visible, but what a difference it made when riding in the dark. Especially for my aging eyesight. It ain’t what it used to be. Glad I did that.

TLDR: This is some good shit! Smells just like Aqua Velva, but even more potent. Gives it that Emeril’s BAM!

Aqua Velva. Disinfecting, soothing, and toning skin since 1917. It was the identifying scent of my maternal grandfather from my youngest memories of him from the early 70s.TLDR: This is some good shit! Smells just like Aqua Velva, but even more potent. Gives it that Emeril’s BAM!

My first career (U.S. Army) required daily shaving so it was only natural that I chose to wet shave and follow that with a splash of good ol’ Aqua Velva. I watched the bottle change over the years. From that traditional bumply textured matte glass finish to a new shaped smooth glass finish, to the plastic bottle that was the same as the glass new shape.

In my second career I continue to maintain a shaving regiment because I want to. And up until last year, Aqua Velva was still my daily splash, bringing grandpa forefront to my thoughts. Every. Day.

What happened last year was that I found Phoenix Shaving which opened a whole new world and level of enjoyment to shaving. All the wonderful, strong scents to choose from as well as hardware – razors, brushes, etc.

Phoenix also comes out with homages to other scents, some long forgotten and produced no more.

That’s not the case with Aqua Velva. I still have 3 bottles left that I bought last year. But Phoenix does make an homage to Aqua Velva and so I had to try it. On principle.

This scent is spot on, but even more. Phoenix gives it that Emeril BAM! that takes both the scent and menthol to the next level. The shaving soap utilizes their CK6 blend and doesn’t skip on the scent. The foam is what I’ve come to expect from Phoenix soaps – super luxurious lather that lets any blade just glide over your face without nicks or burns. The aftershave gives you the traditional bite and a menthol that lasts quite a while after application.