Happy birthday to the dog. He's my best friend. We've been best friends since we first met in Hawaii (island of Oahu) some 25 years ago, while both stationed aboard the same nuclear submarine, home-ported at Pearl Harbor there. He's the *only* person from my years in the military I stayed in contact with.
••• continued •••
His favorite shows are Saturday Nite Live & The Sopranos. He's one of those guys that everybody likes, with impeccable social graces.
He knows how to make you feel like the most important person in the world, and has a keen sense of humor. He gets me laughing pretty good, especially when he tells old war stories.
The dog prefers urban areas. The big-city is where he feels most at home. When choosing a place to live in Hawaii, I voted for Haleiwa on the North Shore (the country, at the time) .. but the dog talked me into an apartment on Ala Wai blvd in downtown Waikiki (tourist part of Honolulu). Police sirens are music to his ears.
The back-country makes the dog nervous. For years, I've been trying to get him to backpack Yosemite, without much luck.
He is currently dating a hot, young thing from the Czech Republic, named Simona who makes him very happy. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it's the dog. He met her in the city.
He became a vegetarian after inspecting (for safety) a slaughter house (beef, cattle) for one of the accounts he handled many years ago. He smokes Cohibas and is a great listener.
A very old photo is posted here. Some letters from a recent trip to Ireland are posted here. He has been most supportive during my recent spat of trials-n-tribulations, offering objective insights where none seemed possible. In fact, there was a message on the machine today when I got home, asking how things are going.
Happy birthday, dog.