Tynan the traveling dog back for a third week! Woof! Unfortunately, the idiots have no plans for us to go anywhere anytime soon. Bummer. But, as promised, I thought I’d catch you up on our Arizona trip, show you how I added a state to my repertoire, as it were.
If you’re not all caught up, check last week’s post, a quick summary of the trip, then sit back in your armchair while I drive for a change.
We left Albuquerque on Thursday, January 2, by about 10:00. The time was more tailored to ensure lunch at Sparky’s in Hatch, the chile capitol of the world. He’d never eaten there. Me, I got to sit in the car while the smoke coming from all those burgers and pork wafted in through the cracked car windows strangling me with its perfect aroma. It was not an auspicious start for the trip. In retaliation, when they waddled walked me around later, I peed on Sparky’s. Not my finest moment, I admit, but peeing on my people really wouldn’t have worked. Then they made pose for pictures in front of the kitschy stuff near the restaurant. Whatever.
At last we were off again. It’s a long ride to Tucson, and I snoozed through most of it. Finally, we arrived at our destination, the Best Western-Tucson Foothills. Apparently, she and my lady friends from the Adobe Wool Arts Guild (AWAG) prefer this place when they make their annual pilgrimage to the Old Pueblo Rug Hookers Hook-In. (Hook-in, yes they really call it that.) There is a reason for their fealty to this particular hotel: free booze! Yep, the place provides a gratis happy hour (more like three hours), and you know they aren’t passing by that. Wouldn’t you know it, we arrived during sed happy hour. So off to the “cafe” we go thinking the idiots will pick up a glass of quaffable, free wine and sit outside or, more realistically as the sun was already going down, head back to the room to drink then argue over who would go back to get the next round.
But then the beautiful bartendress sees me, and she says these magical words: “Oh, he’s so cute, Of course, he can stay.” She caresses my chin and whispers, “Would you like to go home with me? I can give you your own downy hotel bed, barbecue on demand…” Sorry, I digress there, maybe fantasize a bit. The point is I was invited in to happy hour all weekend. Nice touch, Best Western-Tucson Foothills. Oh, especially, that popcorn machine. Loved the popcorn machine!
Drinks drunk, we head back to the room so the idiots can rest. (Wow, tough day: eating, driving, and drinking.) Anyway, he takes over the desk with his laptop; she and I claim the bed. This traveling dog is really starting to love human hotel beds. They’re lower than the one back home, and they’re BIG! She doesn’t care if I take 2/3s of it. Very comfy.
Next day, we’re off to Mount Lemmon, Tucson’s tallest mountain. Back maybe 16 summers ago, they were vacationing in Tucson, checking it out for possible future residence. They tried to drive up but were turned back by officials. The mountain was on fire. Not this time! Of course, we had to drive in stops and starts since she had to take all her freaking pictures. Fortunately, there was some pretty spectacular scenery. And I got to get out of the car!
That night, my AWAG ladies finally showed up at the hotel. At happy hour, of course. Mary R. brought me gifts, and…the popcorn machine was working! Nan watched me while the idiots went for food. She let me on her bed. I love Nan. Plus, she brings toys for me when she comes to our house.
Saturday morning, we drop the mistress off at the La Paloma Country Club for the hook-in. Looked like a swanky place for something with such a stupid name. He tells her not to spend so much at the silent auction this year. Right. (Later she called not breaking $100 a win. He did not.)
Back to that day, he decides to take us to some park; he’s already forgotten the name. (At least she wouldn’t have done that.) We get out of the car. Something is not right. He wonders why I don’t want to do the usual who-peed-here sniffs, but something smells really bad at this park. “Come on, ” he tells me not particularly patiently. He calls me squirrely, mocks me with that word. But I’m trying to tell him, I think there are f-ing rattlesnakes here! They paid for me to have that hateful training, but it did work. I smell their dirty asses (not that I’m exactly sure where a snake keeps its ass). Finally, he’s fed up with me; we turn around. There is a god! We head back to my favorite Best Western. Frankly, I think he just wanted to get back to his stupid laptop and World of Warcraft. Whatever, I got the bed to myself.
That night we do happy hour with the girls again. Folks fawn over me especially when they hear what he did to me. I appreciate that. Sunday morning we’re off for home. She gets an idea that she wants to take a different route, not the one we came on. He’s skeptical, but of course, she wins. We turn the car to the north. At first it’s nice, sleep-inducing. We stop at McDonald’s for their “quality” brunch, then get into some more remote country. I’ll let the pictures (she took soooo many) tell the story.
At least we made it home before dark, and now I’m coming to terms with my lack of hotel beds and popcorn machines.
I hope she’ll let me come back again sooner than later. I enjoy sharing my travels with you. And you make good witnesses as to how the idiots treat me.
Later,
Tynan the traveling dog
