An Excerpt from ‘The Drug Dealer’
On the trip to New Hampshire, my all-wheel drive came in handy. The roads were slick from snowfall, and it was slushy as I experienced in California doing spring skiing. The only problem when it iced over in the early morning. The boys did well, sleeping most of the time between rest stops. We stayed overnight in Buffalo. To my surprise they had no problem riding the elevator to our room. They stayed in our car while I went to dinner (Buffalo chicken wings, of course).
We left early for the final leg of the trip, a seven-hour drive to Portsmouth. Passing trucks and the flashing girders of the Albany Bridge made Moe nervous. He stood behind my seat and tapped my head with his paw asking me to open the window. In western Massachusetts my windshield washer ran dry from cleaning off the muddy snow melt kicked up by the trucks on Highway 95.
Luckily, the spray they kicked up was wet enough to let me clear my windshield for a few minutes at a time. I positioned myself to the left rear behind a truck and repeated the process. Half way to Boston I found a gas station that had jugs of washer fluid piled out front. I bought two gallons and an extra scraper. In my muddy car we got to our destination at the end of an eight-hour ride. I asked the desk clerk to recommend a doggie day care and a car wash.
“For the dogs, Your Best Friend is off Highway 4 half way to Dover,” she said.
“Perfect. I’ll check it out.”
I had a folder of veterinary records that should satisfy them. They were healthy. Vaccinations up to date. The boys stayed in the car while I had dinner at a nearby restaurant/sports bar. My martini was the perfect ending for a long drive.
“Tomorrow, we explore the neighborhood, boys.”
They looked up excitedly. I wondered how good their English was.
Pease was a sparsely developed peninsula extending west of Portsmouth. A former Air National Guard base, it had an airfield the military still used to ferry personnel to and from the Middle East. The jet engine noise was muted. It reminded me of our little house in Manhattan Beach. With the windows open we could hear the take-offs from LAX. Fortunately, the flights here were infrequent.
We began the day with a walk in the meadow next to the hotel. The dogs played in the thin layer of snow and promptly did their business. Having them relieve themselves first thing in the morning was an essential part of dog parenting. I didn’t want them to leave their little prizes at day care if I could avoid it. Peeing was a different matter. On the road they needed to stop every three or four hours.
We drove around the area near the hotel and found an abandoned building that had been an adult education extension of the state university. Despite the snow cover I could see landscaped grounds. Moe and Curley frolicked in the snow. No leash needed at this secluded spot. “Boys, here’s your new poopateria,” I said.
The abandoned school had a single padlocked building but plenty of parking space and a large snow-covered lawn. The school had reportedly become a privately owned internet college and needed lots of office space but no classrooms. I was skeptical about on-line education as I had thrived from the direct personal attention I received from a number of outstanding teachers in my collegiate days.
We found a supermarket on Woodbury Avenue where I stocked up on provisions for our kitchenette. The seafood section was a dream come true. All manner of fresh local fish and lobsters. Too bad they didn’t know what okra was—not even frozen okra—as I would have lived on gumbo for the next three months. Maybe Cheryl can send me some okra and file gumbo. Lima was close enough to Kentucky to have all the elements needed for southern cooking.
“Day care is closed today, so I’ll check it out tomorrow.” Moe and Curley loved when I talked to them. They cocked their heads like the RCA dog.
