esrosedotblog

A LETTER TO AUNT RUSTY

Aunt Rusty is the fine woman who kept Booker at "Airedale Camp" between his old family and coming to our place. She is a saint. A dog whisperer. She matches up the pups with people.

We all have a soft spot in our heart for Aunt Rusty.

This time, it was Booker's turn to write.

Dear Aunt Rusty

My Dads MOVED! Christ almighty. You and they told me I would have a 'forever home' and the next thing I know they are taking my rugs out of the house and moving them to this smaller "condo" space. Do you know what a condo is? It seems to be like a house but smaller and there is a lot less bitching and moaning from the Dads about taking care of "the yard", "the pool", and all that kind of thing. They also said something about money. Something I know nothing about as long as the food keeps coming.

They say that they were looking for the right place all the time. For a long time. Downsizing. Then a month or so ago John found "the place". This happens often actually but this time Earl got into it. They took me along to see this "condo" and I liked it. There was a tile floor but big tile and rougher. No reflections, no sliding. And it isn't white so they won't complain about my drool spots all the time.

Well, I expressed my yes vote. Not even thinking that they would follow my lead but they did. Shit. Goddam. This never happens. I vote and they don't do what I vote for. This time I told them it was a nice place and the next thing I know they are moving furniture out of my house and over to this place. And that was last Friday. And listen to this. The fucking rugs were in the "condo" all the time waiting for me. I was in rapture. I slept on all of them.

I had been here many times before the move but I didn't get that they were really going to do it. I peed on all the bushes within the complex which is not that big but big enough for a great walk. Lots of grass. Bushes. And there are a few dogs. I have met two. They are kind of wimpy. I hear there is an Airedale at the other end but we haven't met him. People see me and think I am "Jake".

Space. It is big enough. I go out in the patio when they have the house open. I go to bark at possible intruders and see them in.

Inside is pretty spacious too.

Dads put a cot-crate liner with a stuffed bumper border--in their study. I went in there today for the first time. I don't think I will ever go into it again but it made them happy. Once is enough. I have slept in my bed which is in their room but prefer, now, to do what I did when I first moved to Palm Springs. Sleep everywhere in the house to work out the best drafts and smells. I am also watching the perimeter in this new place. Humans are very careless about the other wildlife that could encroach.

Oh. The Dads say that the old house is in escrow and has sort of gone past the point of no return on the process. It is still in the first 17 days but has passed inspection and the new owner is measuring for drapes and is going to cut the skirts off my Dad's palms on the hill that they have kept there for all this time. 12 years. They are getting that it is not their place any more. Or won't be. Goodbye goodbye.

What else? There are going to be fireworks this weekend and the Dads have a plan if I don't like them. It turns out that our new house--the so called "condo"-- is about half a mile from the place they shoot them off. I think I will be brave but if I am not, Earl is going to take me into the study (where my one time cot is) and hug me happy. It is also very sound absorbing. And then there is the bath which is even better. We will play games. But not get wet.

That is about it from here.

Oh. I get it. Forever Home. That is where my heart is. With my Dads. It has nothing to do with the space I am in. I will be as happy to guard them and eat their kibble here as I would at the other place. And here they won't be jumping into that water and disappearing. Tonight Earl made pizza for us. My old dad ate that all the time at the end. And I got some too. Remember my big ass?

I hope you are not to hot up there in Vegas.

We are watching out for burnt feet. Not getting them. But otherwise I am a desert rat now and like to go for hot walks. I do take time to collapse on the grass and writhe around in it and they tickle me. It is a good rest and the grass is cool and soft. And, while I am diverting them with my clowning around we aren't walking.

Tonight, on our walk, just in the neighborhood, I found a real bone. This place rocks! I thought I would never find a bone again. I guess they have barbecue all over. Toss the bones for the dogs.

Love

Hello to all the CREW,

Booker