Everyone thinks I need a better and more professional web presence, which is true, but I spend most days doing that for other people so … whatever! Judge me as you will.

For now I’m posting what I feel like, and if you want a lesson in how to run a sole proprietorship that needs no marketing what-so-ever, you can feel free to call me and I’ll tell you what I do. Standard rates apply.

I did put up a few old posts of a more work related nature for the serious types. You’re welcome.

This post is about a dog. I don’t have my own dog although since Rob and I are almost 40, I think we’ll be ready for that soon.

Jackson aka Jacks came to Los Angeles not long after me in 2010.

He was my neighbor.

jacksEveryone called him Jacksey, but I sometimes referred to him as “Skinny Butt,” because he had a really skinny little butt!

He was a Taiwanese Mountain Dog who was rescued off the streets, and sent to the US for adoption.

Jacks and I both worked from home and as I spend a lot of time on the phone, and his main interest was scaring the hell out of unsuspecting passersby, we were sometimes at odds.

He would spend all day hiding behind a hedge in order to pop out barking like crazy. People would recoil in shocked horror.

Jacks was a lot more feral than your typical dog and he had zero interest in receiving pets or really any kind of positive attention. So when I walked by I would usually just face-off with him for a minute and sometimes stamp my foot just to mess with him.

He regarded me as fairly boring as I was unscareable, but I respected him for his badass attitude, and I’d like to think the respect was at least somewhat mutual.

Sometimes he would get in trouble and be confined to the backyard, which would result in rather extreme howling, and I would scream at him to shut up or else! He didn’t care.

The most rewarding scares for Jacks were gaggles of slightly intoxicated young ladies coming from the bar a block down, or people with their guard fully down due to a focus on texting as they walked.

On the weekends when our street has the most foot traffic, I would always yell “Jacksey got one!” to Rob in his Man Den at the back of our place. It was part of the routine.

Sometime right around New Year’s Jackson disappeared and no one knows what happened to him.

When it happened Rob was immediately concerned. He was like ” I think Jacks is gone, the gate is open and Vinny (other neighbor dog) seems confused.” I was distracted as company was coming, so I was like .. “Whatever .. I’m sure it’s all good.”

But Jacks is definitely gone, and I’m finding myself thinking of him all the time.

I go through life with a song stuck in my head. Often it’s Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys, but for the last few weeks it’s been Road to Nowhere by Talking Heads.

Since I would not be able to make sense of anything without a heavy reliance on pop culture, this is somehow tied to Jacks.

Rob has been focused more on what may have happened. Did he pull a Houdini? Did some teenager let him out for fun? I keep saying “Pooh. We cannot know. What happened. To Jacksey.”

Everyone deals in their own way.

For a week or so there were alleged sightings of him around the neighborhood but that stopped now.

If he went out young and running wild like James Dean, I personally think he would have no regrets, because like I said, he was a badass.

Anyway I miss him.

And we are definitely on a road to nowhere, which is fine really.

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