The Life and Times of My Illegal Alien Dog Jack Part 1: The Departure
Well at the top of my page, I claim this site is about sports, politics, culture, and Jack. Well I've certainly written about the first 3 (maybe a bit too extensively on sports), but Jack, has thus far, gotten the shaft.
First, a little introduction about how Marsha and I got Jack. We were near Puerto Vallerta, Mexico in a small fishing town called Huanacaxtle de la Cruz (or something like that). Jack was a scrawny black puppy who was dirty and diseased and followed us everywhere (which might have has something to do with Marsha feeding him within the firt 2 seconds of him following us). We grew quickly attached, but decided we wouldn't really be doing anything about the stray dog population in Mexico by taking one home from us.
At the last minute though, we had a change of heart. Marsha had fallen in love with him and I had fallen in love with his story. So we got him some shots and brought him on the plane with us (and yes, you really can bring dogs home from Mexico with only a Mexican Vet's note (or in our case his 12 year-old daughter's). They do not require a quarrantine)
The plane ride home was defintively the worst plane ride either us have ever endured. It's one of those stories that is great, but has so many levels of badness that you constantly have to interrupt your audience's segues with, "And then..." Suffice it to say we spent the whole day with a stray dog we knew very little about at the time. Some highlights include him barking loudly at strangers, refusing to go into his dog carrier, snapping at me when I attempted to force him into the dog carrier, and us being literally kicked off a plane because his carrier wouldn't fit under the seat (even though it was the measurements they fucking gave us!).
Jack is now happily at home with us in Portland, Oregon. My cousin at one point was over and watched Jack happily chewing away on one of his 700 chew toys. David observed, "Damn, that dog has gotta be the luckiest dog ever." But, you know, he was wrong. BECAUSE IT WAS MARSHA AND I WHO HIT THE JACK(HA!)POT BY GETTING HIM!!! AHHHHHH
First, a little introduction about how Marsha and I got Jack. We were near Puerto Vallerta, Mexico in a small fishing town called Huanacaxtle de la Cruz (or something like that). Jack was a scrawny black puppy who was dirty and diseased and followed us everywhere (which might have has something to do with Marsha feeding him within the firt 2 seconds of him following us). We grew quickly attached, but decided we wouldn't really be doing anything about the stray dog population in Mexico by taking one home from us.
At the last minute though, we had a change of heart. Marsha had fallen in love with him and I had fallen in love with his story. So we got him some shots and brought him on the plane with us (and yes, you really can bring dogs home from Mexico with only a Mexican Vet's note (or in our case his 12 year-old daughter's). They do not require a quarrantine)
The plane ride home was defintively the worst plane ride either us have ever endured. It's one of those stories that is great, but has so many levels of badness that you constantly have to interrupt your audience's segues with, "And then..." Suffice it to say we spent the whole day with a stray dog we knew very little about at the time. Some highlights include him barking loudly at strangers, refusing to go into his dog carrier, snapping at me when I attempted to force him into the dog carrier, and us being literally kicked off a plane because his carrier wouldn't fit under the seat (even though it was the measurements they fucking gave us!).
Jack is now happily at home with us in Portland, Oregon. My cousin at one point was over and watched Jack happily chewing away on one of his 700 chew toys. David observed, "Damn, that dog has gotta be the luckiest dog ever." But, you know, he was wrong. BECAUSE IT WAS MARSHA AND I WHO HIT THE JACK(HA!)POT BY GETTING HIM!!! AHHHHHH
posted by chuckdaddy2000 at 12:42 pm
3 Comments:
Yah, thanks a lot. In case you guys forgot - I used to be living in a tourist town - good weather, nice beaches, hot chicks... And I could pee whenever the fuck I wanted. Yah, thanks for saving me. Congratufuckulations!
One more thing...
Nobody's buying this bit about "saving me." Chuck conveniently forgot to mention the 15 lbs of Charlie (ha!) he shoved up my ass on the way to the aeropuerto. Like the flight wasn't jarring enough, I'm hopped up riding shotgun on this deathbird next to some OD'd hippie in a body bag. Reckon you'd snap too.
Jack can kiss my ass. All he does is chase me around and try to bite me. I've even started sleeping in the fuckin' downstairs bookshelf! I should get his illegal ass deported.
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