Hey Jealousy

Laurel came over on Wednesday night and I spent a good deal of his visit sprawled out on the dining room floor petting (read: all up in the face of) his seeing-eye dog Aero. At one point during our totally mutual love fest I drew my attention away from that gorgeous and goofy Golden Retriever grin to see what Buddy was up to. Instead of acting silly on the floor with Aero and I he was perched on an armchair in the living room staring daggers at us.

"I think he's a little jealous," Bevan said, half-joking.

"Oh please," I responded. "He's fine."

The words had barely left my mouth when our dog leapt down from the chair and immediately up onto the couch where, without hesitation, he lifted his back left leg and relieved himself on one of the cushions.

"Okay maybe not," I quipped.

Because he'd rather be curled up under the covers of our bed all day than go out to use the restroom, Buddy's known in our household to have a bladder of steel. In fact, we can count on one hand the number of times in the almost two years we've had him that he's had an accident inside.

And, let's be clear, last night was not an accident.

Buddy was sending a message.

Funnily enough, our little mutt isn't the first warm-blooded creature to soil our sofa. In addition to having my unwavering love and affection, Buddy and my cousin Christopher now have something else in common, too.

Good Sky, Mom

It was just after 7:30 when I grabbed Buddy, a blanket and a bottle of bubbly and hustled to catch the outbound N-Judah that would deliver me to Ocean Beach in time for the 8:27pm sunset. It's how I thought my mom would have wanted to spend her sixty-first birthday, on a beach as the sun went down, except she probably would've opted for a glass of Cold Duck instead of the sparkling rosé I had in my backpack. At any rate, the sky put on the dog tonight and I'm willing to bet she had something to do with it.

Happy birthday, Mom.