Dear Dog Diary - In the Beginning - 1991… I remember the day She first picked me up. It was in the Cattery at the jail with all those other kitties.
Actually, it wasn’t bad, it was San Diego Humane Society – but it was still jail. That place in between. For homeless kitties.
Elvis, the big ol’ droopy eyed saggy basset hound, swayed around the house, scraping against the walls of the dinky beach cottage. Walking for any length of time ate up his one-big-energy-surge-of-the-whole-day, and he used it to find just the right spot in the sun to plop down for his daily nap. I guess if I carried 70 pounds and a massive square head with neck flaps bearing down on two inch legs, I’d be a super mellow stoner dude too.
Hike along with us. Four paws and four feet, out of the car, into the Mount Hood National Forest wilderness, near the Pacific Crest Trail. To feel the spray of a magnificent waterfall...
Just down the street, the flaxen glow of sunset. Disappear around the bend… into the overwhelming baritone undertone of distant wind in trees. Freeway noise fades into silence of thoughts and secret spots.
The basset brothers on an epic Baja adventure, not long after they were adopted. Vote for us, or just hug your dog instead :)