And I'm very happy to note that fifty-one bothers me a lot less than fifty did. I have no idea why, but I'm not going to question it.
We are still hovering around Hollywood (thanks to needing our dodger replaced and our main sail repaired yet once again), and yesterday a friend of ours lent us his car. We were off and running lickity split, and were able to accomplish quite a bit from 10 AM to 8 PM. Of course my first concern was for Wilbur, whom we could not leave on a hot boat all day long, and thanks to the Internet I found us a doggy day care.
The only draw back was the fact that here in Hollywood they are not allowed to 'socialize' pit bulls with the 'normal' population.
I kid you not!
You can see why we sometimes refer to Wilbur as 'Wilbur the Red-Nosed Pit Bull' as he's not allowed to play in other doggy's reindeer games.
Anyway, the people at Camp Canine were very nice, and since Wilbur ended up being segregated from the general pupulation (misspelling intentional), he received a lot of one on one attention from the staff. Just before I departed I got to see Wilbur having a major zoomie session (via a TV screen with video) with one of the employees. He had a blast and everyone loved him. What a shame that this lovable breed has gotten such a bad rap. I only hope it's true that 'Time wounds all heels' (get it?).
We purchased snorkeling gear (my birthday present from Hans), first aid supplies (my gift to Hans), a very deadly spear for fishing (just don't piss me off), jerry cans for water, a solar shower (mostly for me), dog food, doggy nail clippers (what a joke), a new rope toy (for Wilbur, not Hans), six weeks worth of beer (for Hans, not Wilbur), and another hundred and fifty dollars worth of groceries (added to the approximately thousand dollars worth that I've already stockpiled).
In addition to all this running around we managed to visit the cemetery where Hans' parents are buried. Hans' mother died at the age of 40 when Hans was 18 and his father died in 2001 at the age of 79. Buried with them are Hans Sr.s' mother's ashes, and my heart goes out to Hans' mother as this somehow seems a bit cruel.
Today Hans finished replacing the hoses and antifreeze on the port engine, and I did yet one more load of laundry and cut out some canvas for what I hope will become a Wind Scoop for the hatch to our berth. I also took Wilbur for a walk, and while he sniffed like a blood hound at his new favorite smell (bird poop with a side of barnacles) I tried not to have a major heebeejeebee attack when I spotted a very wet and very dead rat within a few feet of us, and luckily I was able to get Wilbur the hell out of there before he spotted it too!
An 'after daycare' picture of Wilbur.
"I don't care whose birthday it is! I love my new rope toy and that's all that matters!"
That's our boy!