I scrolled the Apple TV menu on Monday night, I had gotten all the way to the Foreign Documentary genre, wishing Monday Night Football would hurry and get here. KM, the lovely and brilliant, wondered aloud if the first episode of Breaking Bad’s final season would be available. It was! And $2.99 is a bargain to skip commercials, especially those car dealer ones.
For those of you not familiar with Walt and Skyler and Jesse and Hank, you can catch up pretty fast on Netflix. But trust me, once you start, it’s like meth.
What it is, besides the story of a mild-mannered brilliant chemistry teacher who gets cancer and turns to crystal meth production to support his family after his demise, is the methodical transformation of a man’s soul. Check it out.
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Last weekend was our second without our Cairn Terrier Gus, aka Augustus of Bismarck, Cousin Dog, and convict number 34957 (see photo). That last moniker he earned after escaping from our backyard a few seasons back, which wasn’t too difficult considering there was no fence to keep him in. That short life on the lam ended with incarceration in the State Penitentiary for Canines, better known as the County Animal Shelter. I found him there, one afternoon, looking pretty humble and possessing an odor that took three baths to cure.
Gus would run once more, a few years later, but that time, the result was considerably more pleasant, finding him as the new pet of an All-American upper middle class family on the western border of town. It was definitely an upgrade from what the state had offered, and even better than his spot under the desk in our laundry room.
I arrived, that time, to claim him, and was met with angry eyes from two young children who apparently had already developed a pretty strong bond with Gus – I mean Busbee, his new name. “Busbee of Bismarck,” I thought to myself.
Long story short, the mom asked if I would be interested in selling Gus/Busbee to them, I said no and drove off to the sounds of wailing and gnashing of teeth behind me. “Get your own dog, kids,” I thought as I pulled out of the driveway, doing my best W.C. Fields impersonation.
Two weeks ago, after his health declined sharply over the past few months, we had Gus put to sleep. I still look for him when I get home after work, and even see him briefly in the broom bristles, or the pillow on the floor.
Last weekend, Kathy’s sister Patty arrived for the weekend with her two shih tzus, Sophie and Hi-Ho, who are sisters. It was good having dogs back in the house. And they made me think that someday we’ll get another one, all because of Gus, who we loved.