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.