Slice of Good Ol Boy Life

First, let me begin this post by affirming my love for dogs. I have owned dogs and they have been a fixture in my family for generations.

My all-time favorite was a little black lab mix named Mabel. She was such a sweet girl.

So sweet, in fact, that she provided comfort to some thieves that broke into my brother’s apartment when he was in college. As the story goes, they loaded up the television and electronics, while Mabel gleefully stood by during the heist.

Not long after that, Mabel came to live with me. I took her to Texas where she would show off her adorable pointer pose at the park whenever a squirrel or bird was nearby.

I have so many Mabel stories. She was the best.

My parents eventually adopted her after I moved back to Florida and she enhanced the quality of their lives for many years. After all, that is what a good pet is supposed to do.

Now, back to our story. I’m in El Centro, California visiting my good friend Daniel on a business trip. Daniel had graciously offered to quarter me at his house and as we pulled into the driveway you could hear the sound of barking coming from inside the house.

“I’m going to unlock the door and get the dogs, John, so you just run past them and into the house,” Daniel instructed.

For the life of me, I don’t know why I didn’t immediately refuse to do this.

It was a big mistake.

Daniel opened the door and instead of running to him, they chased after me. The golden retriever clawed me in the leg and the tiny mutt leaped and took a painful bite into the back of my upper thigh.

Ouch!

Daniel quickly scooped up the mutt before any more damage was done as I raced up the stairs and into the bathroom. There, behind a closed door, I nursed my wounds.

It was a traumatizing incident. My leg hurt for days and it would be a month before the bite mark disappeared. Daniel apologized profusely and assured me the dogs had all of their shots and there was no chance of catching rabies.

The little mutt was named GG, after a former congresswoman from North Florida, who I had helped elect before heading west to work in the national parks. Was this the universe’s way of getting back at me for leaving, I wondered.

After everything calmed down, I finally met Kai, Daniel’s husband. That night we toured the food bank with business leaders from the Imperial Valley.

A soft-spoken, tall and muscular young man, Kai emigrated to the States from Taiwan. He met Daniel in South Florida through a dating app and they quickly fell in love and were married in a very public ceremony inside the Florida Capitol. It was quite the statement, given the political climate at the time.

Kai liked living in California and hoped they would eventually find their way to Los Angeles or San Francisco. I quickly got the feeling, Imperial Valley was not the place they would be settling down longterm. For my safety, Kai kept GG locked away in their bedroom for the remainder of my stay.

At the food bank, Daniel worked the crowd with ease. He introduced me to the Commander of the Naval air facility, which serves as the winter home of the famous Blue Angels flight demonstration squadron. The Commander and I had a intelligent conversation about military readiness and the beauty of the Florida panhandle. I kept the dog bite story to myself.

The following morning, I would limp down to the border to finally set eyes on what had become a much ballyhooed issue. Daniel had lined us up a meeting with the mayor of Calexico.

“Get some rest, John,” Daniel advised as we left the chamber soiree. “Tomorrow is a big day.”