July 3, 2015

2717-02 sm

Hi you guys. Welcome to my blog where I talk about the past. I can't remember if I told you this story. The memory of a story was triggered by a phone call from an old friend of mine. A friend I used to surf with. One weekend he was kind enough to let me stay at his house in Montauk, NY. The house was right by the sea. We used to windsurf all the time. Anyway, I borrowed his truck, his dog and went windsurfing. I was having a great time. His dog, named King, was in the water and I jibe around him. It was a windy day and a grey day. King was a big dog, was happily playing in the water. Anyway, after my full day of windsurfing, I rolled up my sail and put the board back in my friend's pick up truck. I put the dog in there as well. I went off to the clam bar to have some tuna. Well, I got to the clam bar and I sat down to have a beer and some tuna. Then let the dog out of the back of the truck because he seemed kind of nervous. Well, the dog was walking around interrupting everyone so I tied him up to my chair because the people next to me were complaining about the dog. I carried on having my beer and my food when all of a sudden the dog looked at me with a terrified look on his face. I said to the dog, "What's wrong King?" The dog obviously didn't say anything but arched his back like the Sydney Harbor bridge. The dog's long tail went straight up into the air. The dog then proceeded to spray the entire table next to me out of his butt. Now, I'm not talking about a small dog. This is a big big Chesapeake Bay Retriever. A big dog. Anyway, going back to the people next to me that were covered in saltwater and dog shit, they were a little upset, I must say. The children looked like a Jackson Pollack painting. The father was furious. He said, "Look what your dog has done to us." And repeating a famous line from a Pink Panther movie, I said, "That's not my dog."

Anyway, that's about all for this week. Here's my link to the blog where I talk about the present.

Love, B. Nice