The Charlie Bravo Story

When there’s an elephant in the room, introduce it

Dad here; since Charlie and I embarked on this journey together four years ago , the hardest posts to complete have always been the most revealing: first, the death of Stevie, then Max’s violent demise, followed so quickly by that of Bull Taco. The death of my dad. The loss of my job of twenty one years and ten minutes. The infamous poop story, or “How to save the carpet by catching a turd on each foot”.

These stories are so uncomfortable to recount at the time that tapping them into the phone is made doubly difficult by the fact that its difficult to type while simultaneously cringing with one eye closed, casting sidelong glances at the screen in utter disbelief at what embarrassing information is being vountarily divulged for the whole world to see.

How’s THAT for a run on sentence?

So without further ado, I hereby announce that I once again find myself among the ranks of the unemployed. I say this not to gather sympathy, as it would be much easier to leave it unsaid and go on telling stories of adventures out west, but sometimes you have to do the hard thing. The irony of this occuring just hours after posting Wednesday morning’s post “Jump” is not wasted on me, except it should have probably been titled “Pushed”.

But I digress. I had a great boss, a fine man and dedicated father, a true combination of leader and servant, but sometimes the stars just don’t line up. Then comes the uncomfortable but necessary decision to own up to the fact that the fit was never there and ride of into the sunset.

But at fifty-six? If that realization doesn’t make you pucker a bit, then your puckerer is malfuntioning. Fear of the unknown is one of the most confining crates of all; it was this fear that initially made Charlie return to her crate, when all she could see around her was miles of empty fields, not free spaces of boundless opportunity.

We are turning into a nation of whimpering slaves to Fear—fear of war, fear of poverty, fear of random terrorism, fear of being “let go” from a faceless corporation that will begn filling your position tomorrow if you were to drop dead today. Fear of being too sensitive, of not being sensitive enough, of the views of the current political administration or those of the next. Fear of taking a stand for what you believe, or the fear of being immediately labeled phobic by anyone who holds an opposing viewpoint. Fear that you will have forgotten to put the lint roller in the car, and will go into your next sales call covered in enough dog hair that the receptionist inadvertently introduces you as “Mr Yak”.

I have a hilarious story from years ago involving a prodigal booger and a sales call, but both Charlie and mom are telling me to save it for another day, or better yet, never, so I will defer to their better judgement. (for now, anyway; as we never let better judgement get in the way of a good story).

So here we are, wherever “here” is; just a few weeks ago, my blood pressure had skyrocketed to 140/95, now it is 103/70. The eclipse that darkened the sun has passed, and the future’s so bright I should be wearing welding goggles, but instead of putting them on, I’m taking them off, as I don’t want to miss a thing.

Part of the beauty of rescuing dogs in distress is in being able to witness the recovery process. To be able to watch Charlie progress from the scarecrow she was to the cocky, outrageous Nubian princess she is today. To see Marco Polo change from a tiny mass of bones and lank, greasy hair into the little fireball that comes bounding across the yard like micro gazelle, or as Zach inadvertantly said one time, “a Giselle”; he may be cute, but a supermodel he is not. And I am talking about the chihuahua, not Zach, although sometimes I do have issues telling them apart.

I was recently asked what is the next step. The answer is the same as what you get when you crossbreed an elephant and a rhino: a big, fat “ellephino”. Sure, we at the Casa del Whackos have detailed dreams that have not yet born fruit to the level we initially expected, but we are finding that only by enabling the dreams of others can we continue to hope to achieve those of our own.

And there is always hope.

See you on the road.

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