Penny and Bubby Update:

        Penny has fully accepted Bubby as part of the family and I think she even loves him a little. He definitely loves her. It is adorable to watch.

No Fees for the Super Paddlers

        We had an easy sail south to Middle Long Cay and we anchored behind the island with the plan to paddle out to Rendezvous Cay the next day. Rendezvous Cay exists on the actual reef and it was rumored to be a “must see.” It lay two and half miles to the east of where we were anchored so the next morning we gathered several bottles of water, some crackers and PB&J, a strong state of mind and started to paddle.

We Have Props!

        We had some engines hiccups and had ordered some props from the United States and we were holding down the fort in the San Pedro/Caye Caulker area for the last few weeks waiting for them to arrive. I admit, not bad places to be stuck for a few extra weeks.

4/11/11

       We stayed in Caye Caulker for 10 days. The town was chill and filled with young, widely diverse travelers and friendly, warm locals. Back in the 60’s a hurricane tore through the middle of the island producing a “split,” or at least that is what the locals that hang out at the bar and beach where the island separated call it. “The Split” area of town consists of two small beaches, one on each side and on the developed side of the split is a bar with a swim area and good taste in music. A strong current runs through the split creating a great swimming area. We anchored close to this break in the island and took full advantage of the area. We took the dogs to the beach and swam, drank, and fished in the split. The shallower areas around the split are full of rays, tarpon, bait fish, barracuda, bone fish, and crocodiles. The anchorage is behind the reef and the island so it makes for a calm, yet still breezy place to stay for awhile. We relaxed, fished (with only stories of close calls to show for it), explored the town, enjoyed the water and each other.  Here are some pics from our time in Caye Caulker.

Post Script: Con told me that this blog post sounds like a lame-o travel book entry and he wants it to be clear that he recommended against posting it. Whatever.
Post Post Script:  Shout out (which i learned from 92.7 the beat jams, representing hip hop and R&B flavas, back in high school)  We met an awesome, full of life couple the night before we left San Pedro and we ran into them in Caye Caukler.  They were chartering a 42ft Lagoon for 10 days with another fun couple.  They generously gave us some left over groceries at the end of their trip and some heartfelt well wishes for us and our journey.  Hope to see you again, Terry and Kat and friends!
M.

Local Spearfishing Boat - each guy ties a dugout to himself to hold his catch

Con and Pen cruising for some Bone Fish

Best Friends Forever

Bubby helping collect the bait fish

Conor started spearing his bait fish

Fishing at The Split

Mama Star. . .

. . . Has dreaded my head. That’s right I have dreads, well more accurately the beginning of dreads. According to Mama Star, they should look like regular dreads in about a month. Now that some of you are done gasping and have recovered from re-reading the above sentences several times, let me share something with you. I know that some of you reading this are thinking, “Oh, no that’s a terrible idea! This alternative, free spirited lifestyle has gone too far and now she is making poor decisions!” Let me respond to these thoughts with this: It’s just hair. It’s a very non-permanent part of me. It does not affect my love of life and family and friends or my decision making skills. It doesn’t affect my job (I don’t have one) or how I treat other people; and if it affects the way other people treat me than that is far from something that would bother me. It does, however, make showering a hell of a lot easier. I no longer have to sit on the scoop for twenty minutes with a bottle of conditioner and my brush de-dreaded my hair after an afternoon snorkel session. And if in several months I don’t like the dreadlock look anymore then I can cut my hair and rock the short, pixie cut for a little bit. My hair was started to annoy me and it was either getting chopped off or dreaded and I just happen to meet a charismatic woman named Mama Star that was more than excited to dread up such “long and pretty hair” (that last part should be read in a kind, belizian accent). And so it goes. . .
       I met Mama Star at her house actually. I was standing on the main street in Caye Caulker reading a sign that said “Ask for Star anywhere, specializing in braids, rasta, and french extension” and a friendly, half toothless guy on a bicycle asked if I was looking for Star. I started to explain, in my all too common overexplaining way that I do, that I just, you know, was thinking about it, not sure, kinda, you know debating whether I wanted to do dreads or not. While I was talking to this random guy on a bicycle, I started getting the all too familiar feeling that he wasn’t actually listening to me but just nodding his head in my general direction. After I was done with my long winded explanation of my hair, he replied with, “So do you want me to take you to Mama Star?” I looked at Conor, he smiled, and I said yes.
       That evening we headed into town and we ran into the bicycle guy, Gilbert, who took us to where Mama Star would start dreaded my head. It was a small hostel with a sandy, large yard with some hammocks and an outside kitchen with a small table and chairs. Star was waiting there for us along with the guy who was running the hostel, Robert. Although Star had mentioned earlier that she had been out partying the night before and was feeling a little rough she was the one who insisted on starting my hair that same evening, so I obliged, half thinking it was a now or never type of deal. So Star started pulling my hair into sections and teasing and twisting and threading my hair into tight, uniform shaped dreads as Con, Robert, and Gilbert sat around the table and talked and drank some rum. Their conversations ranged from uses of a good ladder to how to clean a sea turtle and how delicious the eggs are (Conor only listened to this part of the conversation seeing as how although he has some experience in killing and cleaning a wide range of animals, endangered species wasn’t on his list yet).
       Mike and Ted and Shannon showed up a few hours later and joined in the festivities. Shannon gave me encouragement and told me I looked awesome and the boys went and picked up some food for dinner. Robert had chopped up a delicious conch ceviche earlier in the afternoon and was down for all of us to cook in the outside kitchen. So as Star pulled and twisted the boys chopped some onion and peppers and grilled some meat on the open charcoal grill in the yard. As I sat in my chair and looked out onto a the backyard of a house in Belize and saw people, some I had just met, some I loved more than life, laughing and sharing stories and having an awesome night, I thought this experience will not soon be forgotten.
       Four hours later, with a little over half of the head done, Star was fading. I think her night of partying from yesterday caught up with her and she proposed that she finish my hair tomorrow. Now, considering that the part she had to finish was around my face and I wanted it to look good and not rushed, I whole heartedly agreed to meet her first thing in the morning to finish. The rest of the night was spent laughing and enjoying some grilled chicken and pork and the company of some very hospitable locals.
       Star met me the next morning bright eyed and eager to make me “look good, girl.” After almost another four hours, she was finished. I had dreads. Since that morning she has told me to come see her a few more times and she has “touched up” a few places to make sure that the hair forms well. She is a woman who takes pride in her work and I was grateful for the extra help and instructions. Thank you, Mama Star.
M.

Getting ready to go into town

Last, stand on the bow and throw your long hair into the wind as your husband snaps a photo, photo

                                     

"Knotting em up"

Robert and Gilbert cooking in the outside kitchen

Jonathon checking the charcoal grill

Mama Star and a dreaded up Meg

Coco Plums 4/5/11

       While we were in San Pedro we had some trouble finding potable water to fill our tanks. The fuel dock didn’t have a water hook up and the other hoses on the docks belonged to the dive boats and they turned their water valves off at night--we checked. So, when our water tanks were at the “need to be filled” level Con suggested that I go by and ask the dive boat guys if I could fill up a few buckets of freshwater from the hose on their dock. I agreed, and while Con and Mike watched from the beach, I approached the dive boat captains and crew that were the guarders of the freshwater hoses. I was greeted warmly and respectfully and once I got the “go head but just this once” from the gruff manager of the dive boats, one of the captains assigned his mate, Jaime, to assist me. Jaime insisted that he carry all the water for me to my canoe (which was two trips, 10 gallons a trip). We got to chatting seeing as how I wasn’t out of breath because I wasn’t carrying anything and he mentioned he was from Caye Caulker and was only working in San Pedro. I explained that we were heading that way the following day and asked if he had any advice about his home town. He told me about a few “sweet clubs that stay open late” which I smiled at and quickly dismissed as probably not my thing and then he mentioned that the best thing about Caye Caulker is “coco plums.” I asked if it was a restaurant or a bar and he replied that it was a fruit that grew locally there and was delicious. Jaime couldn’t describe what the tree looked like, he left it at, “you will know when you see it.” A bit vague for my tastes, but he did describe the fruit well. They are about the size of a golf ball and can be picked when they are white, but they are best when they are pink in color. He said they grow wild on the island and as kid he use to gather them by the basket to eat. Sweet, I thought, I will keep my eyes open for them and impress Conor with my knowledge of local nature!
       A few days after we arrive in Caye Caulker, Conor and I went exploring with Penny and Bubby. We wanted to stay by the beach because the breeze was nice and the dogs could cool off when needed. We found a well beaten path that led us down the beach past the main area of town. The path looked like it led into a less populated area of town, and perhaps a more local fauna/foliage area. The path turned from soft, white sand, clear water, and the occasional shady area to a dusty path surrounded by mangroves that blocked the breeze and made the water brown and muddy. Not an ideal nature path, but we continued down the path for awhile, the spirit of exploring and the beautiful unknown that could be around the next bend urged us forward. We walked along for awhile, taking in our surroundings and just when the heat and the dust and the panting from the dogs were about to make us grumpy, Conor spotted a huge tree of coco plums! We were getting so hot from that Caribbean sun that we almost forget we were keeping an eye out for them! The coco plums grow more on a bush than a tree, but a large, tall bush so I guess that was hard for my new friend Jaime to explain. White and pink golf-ball sized coco plums were all over the tree/bush. We gathered a bag full and tasted our new found treasure. They were good! Not a mind blowing juicy deliciousness that cannot even be put into words but a slightly sweet, fresh taste. It is white on the inside and soft like a ripe fruit but firm enough to bite into. It’s consistency is somewhere in between cotton candy and a sponge, but in a good way. I am actually eating one right now in hopes that I could compare it to something I have eaten before but I can’t exactly match it. Its refreshingly good and different and like something I would have never tasted if I hadn’t been out of water in San Pedro!
M.

The Coco Plum Tree Bush

Con collecting the pink ones

Our bounty

Penny cooling off at the beach after our coco plum excursion

Con and Bubby resting on the beach after our walk

Bubby 4/2/11

       The dynamics in our boat right now are hysterical. Penny is claiming the whole starboard hull as her territory and Bubby doesn’t really seem to care. It looks exhausting trying to keep a constant eye on a curious, roaming puppy. Her new spot is at the bottom of the stairs, guarding the hull and the dog food.  Bubby doesn’t seem to be bothered by Penny dominance, he does his own puppy thing in other areas of the boat. I’m not sure if this is making Penny more adamant to show her alpha-ness or not. A good example of this is this morning Conor and I woke up to a jingling sound of a new collar and rabies tag and look up through the hatch above our bed to an adorable Bubby face and a thumping tail on the deck. Where was Penny?--sound asleep by the stairs. He found his own way into the “forbidden hull.” We didn’t pull Bubby through the hatch into bed with us because we didn’t want to upset Pen Dog too much but we had to laugh at the ingenuity of the newest member of Gualby Nation. Con’s story of how Bubby came into our lives is pretty accurate but I do have a small “editor’s note.” Although I was the one that formed a relationship with Bubby’s mom, there were definitely two people falling in love with the bug infested, funny looking, adorable pup under the pier. Anyone that knows Conor will back me up on the soft spot he has for all animals.
       We were by no means looking for another dog but Bubby came into our lives and it just seemed to work out perfectly. At first he was just a lil guy we said hello to each morning while we exercised Pen Dog on the beach and then it turned into he was looking for us each morning to run out to say hello and we were looking for him. Then, his mom said she wanted to give him away because they had too many puppies and when we checked at the humane society we found out it was neither hard nor expensive to adopt and take him out of the country with us; so the decision was an easy one to make. As for our loyal pup, Penny, yes she is a little put out by the whole situation but she is adjusting and we know she will love and protect Bubby as a member of the family soon. We think it will be good for Penny. She was getting a little bit of an “only child syndrome” and a new puppy in the house is taking her down on the rank ladder a notch or two which is good. Also, once Penny accepts that Bubby isn’t a mistake that will be re-delivered to San Pedro soon, we think they will play together and wear each other out a bit. And for those of you that are thinking we are crazy: In our defense, the small amount of extra work it had been taking Penny (which we are incredibly glad we did) we are already doing, so a few extra papers for another dog is not a big change or effort.
       We are not sure what breed Bubby is, muttly for sure. The vet didn’t give me much insight and on his paperwork under breed the vet put “small.” How about that for vague?! I think he has shepard, daschaund, and maybe collie or golden retriever, and some others in him. I’m sure there will be a plethora of Bubby pictures soon to follow so feel free to guess what kind of mix he is. His personality, well what we know of it at this point, is very chill and loving. He doesn’t have that high energy, can play for hours because I am a crazy puppy mentality. He plays for a little bit, with a few puppy-esque noises but then just wants to snuggle up next to you and take a nap. He is brave and sure of himself, probably from his street roaming days. He is funny, we think smart, loving, adorable, relaxed and we are very happy to have him on board; and we think he is happy to be here!
M.

Sun setting over San Pedro, we left for Caye Caulker, 12 miles south, the next day

Sailing to Caye Caulker, Penny trying to not notice our newest sailing

companion

Bubby checking out the water while we sail

Penny slowing warming up to Bubby

Sleepy lil guy

Trolling for conch on the way to Caye Caulker

　

Belize These Days 3/31/11

       Meg tells me if I want to critique her blogs so harshly that I need to start writing some entries myself. And its true, I haven’t been inspired to do so in a while. I don’t really have anything mind boggling to discuss, so I guess I’m going to spit out some things that I’ve been mulling over lately, things going on with me now, certain feelings I’ve been having, etc. So basically this will be about me. The shitty part is that I know this is gonna sound like a gay-o diary entry, and I hate diaries. But here goes.
      So we are in Belize now, which so far has been pretty good, but we haven’t moved much since getting here. We are anchored off of San Pedro, in about 5 feet of clear water over top of white sand, with Belikin bottles scattered across the bottom. I’ve been snorkeling around picking these up because A). its good for the environment, and 2). If I get 24 of them I can turn them into the grocery store for 6 bucks American (12 bucks Belize). Our finances aren’t really that bad yet, but it is something I can do while Penny swims in circles around me and burns off some energy.
       That leads me into two of the subjects I’ve been mulling over lately: Penny, and earning money. First things first: Money. We aren’t out yet, or anything serious but when we planned this trip we expected to have to work at certain points along the way. We also thought working would add to the experience. Earn a little supplemental income ya know. Or disposable, whatever you call it. We have a handful of somewhat pricey projects we want to do before crossing the Pacific, and instead of waiting for our houseboat to sell, I guess we are just gonna try and hustle up some money and start getting shit done. I don’t want to disappoint anybody or anything, but to cross the Pacific while avoiding cyclones you need to leave between February and June, so we are running out of time for this year. Working legally or illegally in Belize is apparently a large hassel, larger than living and working illegally in Key West, amazingly (half the hospitality industry is illegal aliens in Key West). In the mean time the thought crossed my mind to take tourists sailing in exchange for a donation into our travel fund. (which, although would be nice, probably won’t work the way we expect.)
       What else,….F-me. Oh,…. Meghan bought new soap from here in San Pedro. Its called “African Musk”. I’m not sure about the African part, but when mixed with saltwater I would say the “musk” description is pretty accurate. So I’ve got that going for me. While on the subject of body cleanliness I’ll admit that fresh water has not touched my body since February 2^nd. Actually its been in my mouth at least every morning, and sometimes at bedtime. I don’t really miss it yet. I’m thinking about seeing how far I can go without.
       Ummm,……Oh yeah: we’re pretty pleased with the hand pump water maker we got right before the trip. We have it down to a science: to fill one single well in an ice cube tray takes 12 pumps. Whole tray takes 170 pumps. 1 gallon takes 45 minutes or 1800 pumps.
       Top priority boat projects: replace the joker valve on our toilet. I guess its called a joker valve, nothing really funny about it. It’s a one-way valve in the exhaust hose that lets shit go out but not come in, and lately its been working a little two-way. And when I say “shit”, I mean actual shit. I tried pulling the nurse card on Meghan on this one, saying: “look you have delt with human shit a lot more than me, and are therefore desensitized to it, which makes you a better candidate for this job”. But she put the kabash on that pretty quickly. So I’m looking forward to that project. Even if it is our own shit.
       Back in Mexico I made a cockpit table from a pallet we found on the beach. Its pretty sweet, kinda sits on one side of the cockpit, and sits 4 people around it for eating, playing cards or dominoes. But I’m thinking it be sweet if we had another one that sat on top of the captain bench, that you could take on and off for sailing. That way you could still utilize the whole cockpit. But summer’s coming, and I’d like to get that done before it gets too hot-I suspect spending more time in the cockpit and less in the salon will become mandatory.
       What else?……….I’ve got a few Penny stories I guess. She has been her typical pain in my ass, and is really loving San Pedro. Very dog friendly town, tons of bars on the beach. Mostly just golf carts driving around the roads, very friendly people, and lots of other dogs. Gimpy is pretty much living it up here as well, but Gimpy has gotten heavy attention in every place we’ve visited. Maybe cuz she’s, small, cute, quiet, clean, or any combination of these reasons. Penny, not so much. In Xcalak Ted and Shannon had Gimpy, and we were walking with Penny, looking for beer. This is a very small town with all dirt roads, just a couple of stores and restaurants, and a dozen or so fishing boats. Well every little kid that we pass in that town wants to pet Gimpy, walk Gimpy, hold Gimpy, and every adult wants to buy Gimpy, or trade something for Gimpy, and every dog we pass comes up to her and flirts, sniffing butts and what not, then attempts to play chase, or tag or whatever dogs play. And meanwhile dogs and human alike completely ignore Penny as Gimpy prances around like Queen of Sheba. I guess it was awkward enough that Ted felt he should lighten the mood with a funny comment or something and says: “Penny, maybe if you cleaned yourself up a bit you’d get a little attention as well”. So I look at Gimpy first, all clean, shiny coat, matching UF Gators leash and collar, all small and petite, harmless and cute, and then I look over at Penny and the hair on her back is all spiked up and oily-looking, almost as if it had hair gel in it, she has mud caked like black socks on her two front legs up to her elbows, she has stickers in her tail and dreadlocks in her chest hair, she has sand dried and crusted around her eyes and nose, she has foam on her chin from panting in the salt water, and Meghan is walking her on about a 3 foot piece of 1 inch 3 strand nylon that is green with mold from sitting in the anchor locker. Funny thing is I guess we got used to her looking all stanky. Every town we canoe in to in Mexico went like this: first thing she does is jump out of the boat, squat in the water and take a piss, run up the beach through the stickers and take a shit, run back down to the beach and roll in the sand or mud or both if available, then we put her on a leash which is usually whatever rope or line we find laying around the boat, and walk through town. When we’re ready to go back out to the boat we make her swim a few yards out to deeper water before pulling her in the canoe in an attempt to have her rinse herself off. But residual gunk is starting to build up, maybe she is due for a shave. That will probably happen soon.
       Another funny thing is that here in San Pedro there is a dog subculture roaming the town at all times, all these dogs just doing their own thing. And they all have their own street corners and stomping grounds. And when you sit and watch them for a while, its hilarious because you see them interacting on their little social level, scrapping over garbage, tucking tail as they cross another dog’s territory, running in small little dog gangs together, you can imagine. So as we walk Penny around town through all these different dog territories, the dogs run up to challenge her, but kind of turn off or stop when they see she is on a leash with us. She always gets puffed up but sometimes I can tell she’s a little nervous as they approach. I imagine it being a little demeaning for her to be on a leash and get walked through dog gangs, but its definitely keeping her out of fights. When we go into grocery stores or whatever we always tie her outside the store and she knows the routine, she just sits and waits for us to come out again, never tries to pull on the leash or bark or anything, just patiently waits. Well we tie her up in a corner in front of one particular store, go in, shop for a while, and we come out with our groceries to get Penny. When we see her she is sitting perfectly still, staring out into space, and looking very nervous and uncomfortable because between her and us is this big gnarly looking pit bull, about twice her size, huge sagging balls, all sinew and muscle, scars all over his face and neck from fighting, tail straight as an arrow looking straight at penny’s face. His face was probably six inches from her face. She won’t look at him though, or us, and he looks like he is just waiting for her to give him a reason to jump on her. Now she is tied up and cornered, and probably shitting herself. But as we start walking towards them the pit bull sees us, looks back and forth from Penny to us a few times, and finally wanders off down the road. Penny immediately relaxes and as we untie her she starts panting furiously, rubs her head between our knees, and keeps putting her foot on our forearms, like, “fuuuck that was a close one. You sons-a-bitches set me up”. We felt bad for her but had to just laugh about it.
       Lets see, what else….oh yeah, I’ve spent some money on engine work recently, which hurts because these mofo’s are only 6 months old, but I couldn’t figure it out and I needed it done. The starboard engine has always been a little bitch, even from the first day I installed it. It shifted stiff as hell, had difficulty going back into neutral, and in reverse, you would have to rev the rpm’s up before it would kick into gear, which can’t be good for it. The shifting has progressively gotten worse and worse, until it would go into forward, but wouldn’t switch gears, so you could give it more gas but the rpms would just rev up without getting any more thrust. This sounded to me like it could potentially be a big lower unit problem, so I was bighting my nails thinking about the worst case scenario. But I found a guy here in San Pedro who agreed to take a look. This guy Cesar, was totally knowlegable, had an outboard repair business, and didn’t seem at all shady, so I unhooked the rigging, took the engine off the bracket, and Cesar came and picked it up off the boat. Later that day I walked to his shop, and he told me he fixed the rough shifting, there is nothing wrong with the lower unit, and I had a spun prop hub. Turns out there is a tension arm on the shifting mechanism that was too tight, and 2 turns of the bolt on the arm loosened it up to proper shifting tension. This news made me feel like an asshole because 1^st: Had I known about this tension arm thingy I could’ve done that myself in two seconds without taking the whole f-ing engine off, and 2^nd: same with the spun hub. In my defense it did cross my mind about the spun hub thing, but I figured the engine was just too new to have spun a hub and I know I didn’t hit anything with it, so I dismissed that possibility prematurely. Secondly, I knew the motor shifted too hard when I first installed it, and I questioned the guys who sold me the motor, and even hired a mechanic in Miami right before I left to try and get it resolved. Funny thing is neither one of these numbnuts (both certified Honda mechanics and dealers) mentioned a tension arm on the shift mechanism. They both tried to blame the shift cables, even when I told them that when I unhook the cables the throttle shifts perfectly smoothly at the remote end, and I can’t even shift the lever on the motor by hand; its that stiff. To this they both replied (amazingly) that this must just be how this engine shifts. Oh,…just a intricacy of the engine. O k . So it took me getting to Belize to find somebody who figured out the tension arm. One more thing about Honda that I think is bullshit, is the warranty. So they give a ridiculous 5 year warranty, but only if the motor stays in the country you bought it at. For most customers I guess this isn’t asking too much, but if they’re all the same engine, why should it matter what country you’re in when the thing breaks down. This is completely absurd, and I knew this when I bought the engines, but the general concesus was that they are Hondas, and you shouldn’t need to do much if you keep up with the maintenance. Punk-ass Honda. Anyway, enough bitching.
       And continuing on,…new member of the Gualby Nation is : Little Black Bubby from Belize. We first met Bubby in this manner: Penny was standing on a dock on the beach and underneath the dock a small animal was growling and barking at her, like some kind of little troll or something. You couldn’t see what it was because it was tucked way up underneath the dock where the dock runs into the beach. So Penny has a coconut in her mouth but is trying to peer through the cracks to see what is snarling down there. Finally curiosity got the better of us and we coaxed this thing out and it was Bubby. Penny was kind of on her guard at first but when she saw it was just a little puppy she kind of just shook her head and ran back into the ocean with her coconut. Meghan on the other hand had the opposite reaction, and was visibly falling in love. Bubby would roll over on his back for you to rub his belly and let out little squeaks and whimpers while you scratched him. He was full of fleas and ticks and scabs. Disgusting ticks the size of blueberries. Meghan was somehow able to see through all the nastiness and found him adorable. ( I don’t know if that is a gift that women in general have, or nurses, or what, but she’s got it.)
       We went about the rest of our business that day, and for the next few days we saw Bubby every morning come out from under his dock and get his morning belly rub. Penny started getting a little put off by this and would try to chase Bubby back under his dock before we could get to him. One afternoon a lady from the kayak rental hut at the end of Bubby’s dock came over to Meghan while I was throwing coconuts for Penny, and I’m not sure exactly what was said, but Meghan came back and said she wants to give us Bubby. First of all we thought Bubby was just a stray, so immediately I figured this lady was just trying to have us get this stray off her dock. But she told us his name was Bubby, and he did seem to know his name, so we slept on it. Next day Meghan saw the lady and told her that we wanted to adopt Bubby, to which the lady replied: Ok, go ahead and take him right now. Which was a little startling, but after finding out he was allegedly 6months-ish old, hadn’t had any shots, wasn’t fixed, had never been to the vet, but was wormed one time, we did just what the lady said. We took him…….straight to the vet. Over a 24 hour period Bubby got about 10 shots, wormed, debugged, and neutered. So now he probably hates us. But he has a funny tough little personality. Penny pretty much hates him right now, but Bubby doesn’t take it personally. You can kind of tell he spent some time on the streets, because he has no problem growling at Penny if she looks at him while he’s eating, and when we take him into town the other strays come up to him like they know him, giving props and pounds and hand shakes and whatnot. He goes to the bathroom in the cockpit, which is perfect and we hope Penny catches on to this as well. He doesn’t take to the water like Penny, but isn’t scared of it either. One last thought and then I’ll let Meg go into more detail on Bubby: I’m not sure if we are really doing Bubby a favor by adopting him. Sure we got rid of all the bugs for him, and we’ll make sure he eats twice a day, but would he choose that over still having his own testicles, being his own dog, roaming the streets of San Pedro, fighting punk ass dogs that don’t show him respect, banging all the finest bitches San Pedro has to offer? Scroungin for food scraps in the street, laying on the beach, letting tourists rub his belly? Or would he trade that for 2 bowls a day of dry dog food, a leash and a collar, being told not to bite, bossed around by humans and Penny, and a lot of Human Love. Who knows.

Well I’m gonna cut this off now, cuz its getting a little long winded. Peace and love
Conor

Two great tastes that taste great together

Monster Burger from "The Butcher" $7USD

Bubby's reaction to us adopting him

Penny tries to hide her excitment