Again, that yearly pilgrimage to where I grew up. I’m sitting in the same ol’ coffee shop that I usually do my finger tapping, but the owner isn’t the same.

She sold it to a couple who’s slowly in the middle of a remodeling and learning the ropes. I wish them the best of luck. Right now, they know what my drink is, since I come in every few days here and there and plus I’m easily recognizable with my hair the way it is.

Boy and his dog 2013. What can I say about it?

Let’s start at the beginning, the drive.

I didn’t have a problem with the drive to Fresno. That was fine and uneventful. It felt unlike any other drive that I have done to Fresno. My problem was the drive up to Seattle. It just felt longer, slower, and more tiring. Maybe I am just getting old with my age and my body just can’t handle the drive anymore. I don’t know, but it definitely took its toll on me.

Portland.

That’s when the dog problems started. That’s when Pickles became an asshole.

Pickles and Portland has a long history. Every time that we visited and that I left him at Phinney’s alone while I’m out to dinner, something always happens. He broke out twice. Chewed/slipped out of his leash harness multiple times and destroyed the screen door.

This year, taking everything that I have experienced with Pickles at Portland, I was prepared. He’s got a body harness that is tight. No possible way to slip out of it. I brought out the metal nylon leash. No way can he chew out of it. I slid the screen door back and put a chair in front of it. I locked the deck door. Done and done. Done and done. No way can he slip out. No way at all.

Dinner.

Dinner was fine. Got to caught up with Julie and the kids. Emerson have problems with my hair and Mason thinks I look like an ant. It was fine, they’re kids, and I’m okay with that. I loved it when Emerson pointed out how bad my hair was and that it was stupid in front of the Waitress. It was kind of awesome and cute in the kiddie sort of way.

But dinner was fine. Chatted and caught up with Phinney for a bit and then went home. I do have to say, I was a little bit anxious when I got there. I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in. Will Pickles be where I left him? Will he be gone? But he was fucking inside when Emerson opened the garage door.

He was fucking inside.

I looked at the crime scene. The sliding glass door was still closed and locked. I stepped outside, he slipped his harness. Fucking asshole.

I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. How the fuck did this fucker get in?

I didn’t see it until Julie pointed to it. The fucking window. The mother fucking open window that lead to the living room. The windows.

More damage. The window screen in the living room was scratched out, destroyed and pushed out the window. It was too high for Pickles to jump thankfully.

I apologized profusely for his misdeeds, his little tempers tantrums, that fucking asshole. Bitch ass cunt of a dog. My dog.

Julie reported more problems while I was driving up; another window screen got damaged and the ultimate fuck you to everyone, he peed on their bed. That mother fucker.

That was Portland. What a nightmare. We will no longer be having dinner in Portland. It is done. I cannot outsmart him, which is kind of sad.

* * *

Dog issues number two started almost the next day. Pickles seems to have an infestation problem. His ass seems to be bitten all over and then he started to chew on his tail. I knew exactly what he’s going to do, so I bought him some shampoo and an anti irritation spray. Gave him a bath and that seems to help a bit, but his tail was gone.

He had a hot spot. I took him to the vet and he got a steroid injection and an ointment along with the cone of shame.

Thankfully, it all cleared up and everything, and now he’s back to normal.

Karma.

* * *

For this trip has been going as planned. Smooth sailing, dog issues aside. I got to catch up with family, seeing everyone bit by bit and just catching up.

Then I got a few good hiking trips in, one day with Pickles who seems to have enjoyed it immensely. But I did notice that he’s tiring out quickly. He doesn’t have the same kick in his legs anymore. Maybe it is his age that is showing.

It breaks my heart a bit to see that he doesn’t have the same amount of energy anymore, that he’s getting older, but it just warms up to see him try and keep up. He puts up with me. It just makes me smile to see him still try to scare the pigeons, geese, ducks, birds, whenever there is a flock around, even though he’s really tired.

I still see that and it just warms me.

He’s my copilot in life right now, my wingman in my little journeys. He’s my soul mate; if that is possible, but I feel that it is.

* * *

Montana, the small road trip with big gains. The brotherly bonding experience.

Glacier National Park.

I don’t think any words or descriptions that I can come up with can do that place any justice. Let’s just say that it is the most beautiful place I have ever stepped my two feet on in the lower 48.

I was just in complete awe the whole time, especially when we took the shuttle up to Logan’s pass. Just in awe. Just beautiful.

I was a little annoyed with my brother though, sure I shouldn’t have, but I was being impatient.

Whether he was winded from the high altitude and wasn’t able to adjust to it or he was out of shape in terms of cardio with all the workouts that he does or what, I have no idea. His legs started to cramp up and he was slow, and we just started.

Our first hike wasn’t even that strenuous at all. I’ve done worse without any problems, but there will be times when he’s so far behind that I can’t even see him anymore. Both his legs cramped up and that was that.

But he managed to keep up and keep the pace on our second hike, the long one, the most important one. So, that was good, but that fucked up his knees, which he has problems with.

I don’t know how bad it is, but it doesn’t seem like he can walk on it.

We took it easy on the second day with a short easy hike. After we got to Avalanche Lake, I went to explore it on my own, leaving him on his own. His knee.

But our time there was nice. Got to ask him a few questions in regards to his social life and dating. It was awkward, but I needed to know.

The scenery is very nice. I miss it already. I miss it already.

* * *

A new day, a new stride, but same ol’ paradise.

My days up here are coming to an end. My days are numbered, before I hit in my steel contraption on wheels and drive the 18 hours to the place where I rest my head. Home.

Home is such a relative term.

Many people say Home is where the heart is, but I think, Home is where you make it.

I have two homes. The new found old home that I have made up here in the great ol’ Pacific Northwest. It’s different from what I grew up with. The lifestyle is different. It’s changed so much, but there is still a semblance of home.

Family surrounds me up here. The dynamics of family has changed so much, so it seems. Whereas growing up it has always been cousins and uncles/aunts on my father’s side, and now, it is a mixture of both.

I make an effort to make all the rounds and visit all of the family that I grew up with. It’s important.

I know many would think that I don’t have a family bone in my body, being that I moved so far away without the thought of moving back, but I do love family.

Why wouldn’t I?

* * *

Seattle.

Proper Seattle.

These past few years, I have been able to explore Seattle like I never was able to do before while I was growing up.

Mainly because I didn’t have the means to do it because my parents were never the type to just go and explore. To them, Seattle was just Chinatown and they were okay with that.

But now, as I gotten to see Seattle more, the different facets of it, I’m falling in love with it more and more.

Spending the day in Seattle the other day, it really did make me miss the PNW. It really made me feel that maybe, just maybe it’ll be okay for me to move back. I don’t have to live with my mom and brother, that would never happen, but to maybe live in Seattle.

Just maybe.

That’s a viable option now.

But there’s still a part of me that still love the life I’m living in Los Angeles, and there’s another big part of me that would just love to pick up and move to Chicago.

Options.

That’s when things get deadly. You have to make a choice and the choice is all on you.

Options.

Life.

It’s such a blank slate. Anything can happen. I can only welcome it with open arms. Take whatever comes my way.

* * *

It has begun. The annual pilgrimage home.

It started out Thursday afternoon and it was an uneventful trip up to Fresno. Pickles was behaving as I was just listening to some podcasts what not. It was a simple and easy ride.

Friday, the day of the drive.

It was an easy ride, clear sailing and very little traffic. But for something reason, it just felt off, like I was going slower than usual. Maybe it was just me and that I’ve been feeling tired lately, but it just felt like it was a longer drive by an hour or I haven’t been driving as fast as I usually do.

It was just strange.

Throughout the drive, I had to deal with Pickles’ gas.

He is having some stomach issues. He doesn’t want to eat, or he’ll eat a little bit.

His stool is a little bloody and soft, but hopefully whatever but he has will get out of his system.

Eventually we made it to Portland.

* * *

Oh Portland. Portland Portland Portland.

What can I say about Portland and Pickles’ behavior in Portland?

He’s a handful; just a fucking crazy dog.

The first year, I tied him in the yard, he slipped out of his collar and found a hole and ran away.

The next year, I tied him on the patio and shut the door to downstairs, but didn’t lock it. Slipped out of his collar and harness and went around the neighborhood.

Last year, I tied him up to patio with his harness and leash, locked the patio door to the downstairs. He chewed through his harness and then clawed at the screen door, wrecking it.

This year, knowing everything that happened in the prior years, I brought out the metal long leash, wrapped it around the foundation of the patio and put on a really tight harness, shut and locked the patio door, slid the screen door back and put a chair in front of it. I outsmarted him. He’s not getting out. I can go out and rest easy.

I was wrong. I was fucking wrong.

We got home and I was feeling a little scared, yet confident that my plan worked. It has to have worked. I outsmarted this guy. He couldn’t get out. But nope, as we went through the garage and opened the door to inside the house, there he was. I was like, how?

I went outside to the patio, his harness was in one piece. So he slipped out. The sliding glass door was closed and locked. How did he get in? The fucking OPEN WINDOW. He destroyed the screen and jumped through.

First thing he probably did was to go for the open window in the front of the house. He pawed and pawed at the screen, and finally pushed it out. Pickles looked out, too high, can’t jump. Then he went to the kitchen to the other open window. Started chewing on it, too high.

Then I guess he started to sniff around the house for me, ended up in the master bedroom and started to make it the master of his domain. Peed on the fucking bed. Fucking peed on the bed.

So pissed. So upset. So fucking angry that he would do something like that.

What the fuck is wrong with him? I wonder what goes on in that head of his to make him just go crazy and need to get out and find me. Why?

Where did the trauma stem from?

That is what I had to go through last night. That was the last event that happened during my first day of the road trip. Fucking Houdini Pickles.

The rest of the ride up to Federal Way was quiet, me seething in anger and thinking about how I could have prevented it or how what I can do about it in the future. There are options, but they are too much.

Frustrating. Very frustrating.

I give it. I gave up. I can’t outsmart him. It’s too taxing to figure out how he would react. I thought I knew him, and I did, but I didn’t see. I was at fault. I didn’t notice the open window. I should have known better.

I should have caught it. It was my responsibility. I was too wrapped up about him being tied up, he couldn’t possibly slip out of his harness.

I was wrong. I paid the price.

I was so wrong.

Fucking asshole piece of shit dog.

Urgh!

* * *

I need to find a boarding facility for him for when I leave for Glacier National Park.

I thought about leaving him in Puyallup, but after everything that has happened, I don’t want to take that chance of him getting out again and destroying stuff. It might be different since Scout would be there, but I don’t want to take that chance. What if he gets out and takes Scout with him. I wouldn’t put it past him to do something like that, that asshole.

So, the research begins for a boarding facility here.

Stiff.

That’s what I was last night. Stiff.

I went out. DTLA. Went to the trendy bars crowded by people that I am not familiar with, with some friends of mine, of which I only know one well.

It was their mission to get me laid. It was their mission to at least get me a number. It was their mission and it was a failure at launch.

Never take an introvert to a loud crowded place. NEVER.

It never works out well, as it’ll always be a night of small talk. Fuck small talk.

It was a night of being in my head, watching whatever was on the television even though I couldn’t hear anything at all.

It was a night of just being out for the sake of being out. It was a night of fulfilling my resolution, to be more social, to go out more.

It was just a night of not fun.

I’m sure the others had fun. They were in their element. They were in their little groove. They like the bars, they like the scene.

It was just too much for me.

I know that I could have been better. I know that I could have made a better effort, but there comes a time when I shouldn’t have to force myself to have a good time. A good time should never be forced. A good time should just exist organically. It should just be.

But it never happened.

It was that.

* * *

Tired.

My trip is coming up and there are just a few more things for me to do.

I need to make a trip to Target to get my usual road trip snacks and treats for the multiple hikes I plan on doing.

I’m really looking forward to this trip.

I just need to get away. I need to get away from people. I need to just be on my own. Me and the open road.

Heavenly.

* * *

Dating sucks.

I think that is all that needs to be said about that.

I’m not meeting anyone. Very little responses.

Blah.

* * *