Many of you met Max last week. If you didn’t here’s what he had to say about his first week in Tucson: Max A. Finch, Guest Blogger. You’re getting an update here. And here’s a Max picture for non clickers.
Max won’t be writing for Mark Rubin Writes for a bit of time. I don’t know for sure what he’d say if he was in the writing mode—we don’t censor here at MRW, but we also don’t seek out writers who sh*t all over us—and, alas, there’s sufficient concern about what Max might write to justify not accepting guest blogs from him right now.
Friday started out fine. We got up, we did a walk which included a piddle, we got in the car, and we drove to work. Along the way, Max got his biscuit from Coffee Times, my very cool drive-through coffee place. (Thanks, LB, for the reference.)
Work was full of its usual stressors, 10x. In my early years as an attorney many end-of year transactions were tax-driven, making December a dreaded month. Not so much for many years. And then there’s now: 2015. Tons to get done, with many people counting on me. In and amongst the stress, Max and I did a longer than usual afternoon walk, with piddles and a poop. A pretzel or two from the Utz Pub Mix in the building lobby, shared with Max, led me to think all was well. (I’m living on pub mix, baked Lays, and gin these days*.)
So at about 3:45 p.m. on Friday, drinks plans came together. On this particular Friday parts of the crew agreed to meet at Kingfisher at 5:30. So I packed up at about 4:21, thinking about all of the work I would get done over the weekend, and drove us home. Quick walk. Piddle. Good. Right?
Not, apparently!!! I left the house for Kingfisher at 5:19 p.m., and returned home at 6:55 P.M. During those 96 minutes a Booda stuffed animal died. (Note that I have not shared the stuffing; there was more than I thought there would be.) And, and this really counts, the canine left a package that yours truly didn’t see until his left black Doc Marten stepped in it. Alas, the Big Dog ain’t happy!
Max and I will survive and thrive, for sure. He’s a fine being, and I treasure the fact that I’m his person and he’s my dog. That said, I’m a single man with a social backbone, and Max has demonstrated clearly that he does not approve of my Friday Night Happy Hours. So, I need a dog-sitter. I’m very flexible about times and days, but I need someone who can be a companion for Max. Takers? Suggestions?
*Dramatic effect. Honest!