Second Chances.

Well. What can I say. I guess I'll just lay it out as it happened.

It's been over a year now since we lost Cocoa. Her passing has been a bigger mountain to climb than I ever imagined. Her passing really decimated our emotions. Tiffany vowed to never get a dog again. I always felt that one day a dog would come into our lives. I also felt that both the girls need a dog in their childhood memories. But dogs are commitment. Dogs are work. It's not called a Dog Eat Dog Day Afternoon for nothin'.

And then last night happened. Tiffany asked me if I had seen her post about a dog at the Pasadena Humane Society that desperately needed to be adopted. That the deadline to terminate this animal was last week.

I hadn't seen that post but immediately looked it up. I was angry at myself for missing her post. She, I'm sure, was angry at herself for mentioning it to me because she knew I'd pursue it. And the kicker was, this dog was adorable. But had simply been at the pound wayee too long. Nobody wanted him.

I frantically jotted down the dog's ID number. But by this time it was 1130 at night. The pound was closed. There was no way to know if this dog was alive or dead. So I went to bed with the resolve that I was just going to let the chips land where they may. I'd call in the morning, and if by some incredible chance the pound had not, as promised, put this dog down... well then, we'd have to just go take a look.

But we were supposed to go to Disneyland today with Joyce and family. I told myself, "If it is meant to be then Joyce will cancel Disneyland." Joyce called and cancelled Disneyland.

So I called the pound. The dog was still alive. But the woman on the phone impressed upon me they were just desperate to find a home for the dog. The dog needed a home, NOW.

I walked over to Tiffany. She tried to read my eyes. "He's dead?" "No." So we told the kids what was going on. I thought their eyes were about to just pop out of their heads with excitement. For months both had been campaigning for a dog or cat or something other than animals that have to live in a cage or tank.

At the pound we filled out the paperwork and while waiting for the counselor who would assess whether we'd be good candidates for the dog we walked around a little. Pounds are tough places to be. You feel for every animal. What makes it even worse is when the animals are trying to show you how friendly they are... how wonderful they would be to take home.

While we were waiting we found the pen where the dog in question was. The girls hadn't seen a picture of the dog yet but Chase instantly picked up that this was the beast in question. She looked at me and said, "This one?" I nodded. She nodded back and smiled. We said hello and then walked around some more. Then returned back to the dog. Charlie commented, "Boy, you guys really like this dog, don't you?" Chase explained that this was the dog. And it was instant love.

Everyone, I'd like to introduce our new friend, family member, and sources of I'm sure peaks of both joy and challenge:

Frankie C. Dodge. "Frankie" is short for Frankenstein. "C" is in tribute to the original Pooch herself, Cocoa. "Dodge" is, as most of you could guess if you have known us for awhile, our last name.

While processing Frankie's release, we learned that he's had a tough life up until this point. In January he was brought in with severe wounds from a vicious attack by another dog that needed surgery. After his owners took him home, they returned a week later to give him up. Apparently, the family was losing their home and couldn't keep him. He's been in the pound since January and was scheduled to be put down. But even through all that, Frankie is a sweet, tail-wagging goofball. He needs training, but his enthusiasm will receive it with great heart. As I write this now I still can't get over that nobody has adopted him until us.

I must confess at this point, Ladies and Gentlemen, that I had rules that needed to be met before I would ever get another dog. They were rules that I feel were established when I got Cocoa.

1. Circumstance presents the animal to us. We don't seek the animal. (Just like how we meet most of anyone we love.)

2. The animal is not a purebred.

3. The animal's life most likely depends on whether or not we adopt it.

Well, Frankie qualified to these three requirements 180%. The one uncanny similarity, if you ask me, with Cocoa is that Frankie was listed as a Pit Mix. I think this might have had something to do with why he never got adopted. People who don't want a Pit Bull don't even want a mix, and people who do want a Pit Bull want one that's pure bred. Cocoa was a Chow Mix and whenever anyone realized that it was instant bias and sometimes unfounded fear. The way I see it, every day from this point on that Frankie "is" should be considered pure gravy.

Frankie was a "volunteer favorite" as it was presented to us at the pound. And that was proven as every worker and volunteer in the joint came in and lit up with relief and joy when they realized that we were taking Frankie home. One volunteer even started to tear up.

And I thought that just might be the case with every animal... but I saw another one being processed with just a "greeeat...thanks." But with Frankie it was a practically a grand send-off. I just got the sense that everyone there loved Frankie and were completely stressed knowing that his time was about to run out.

In addition, we didn't have to pay for anything with Frankie. The usual 120 dollar fee for chipping and other costs were covered. The counselor applied a donation made by another person to Frankie's release.

So now we start a new journey together. One that will be admittedly rife with work for us all. But one that is no less exciting because of it. Poor Frankie. He's going to be on youtube frequently.

Wednesday.

My Shoes are too big. I should have known better. But it was just pure stubbornness that led me to this stupid stupid situation. The 11s were too small and I knew the 12s would be wide enough. When I tried them on they slipped a lot on the heel. But I kept them anyway, because I wanted cool hiking shoes. Now, it just feels like my shoes are falling off all the time and I might just throw myself off of Half Dome, screaming, “FUCK THOSE SHOES AND FUCK ME TOO!” All the way down.

But alas, we just got here. Yosemite. Only Tiffany has been before (and that was an RV trip in the dark) so we thought it would be a fantastic little few-day, in-state trip. It looks like we are hitting the season’s G-Spot for Yosemite as well. Fresh snow still on the ground, but Springtime temperatures are what everyone has promised us. Tiffany and I are plotting our plan of attack tonight.

We are staying in the Wawona Hotel. It reminds me of the place where Baby learned to Dirty Dance with Johnny- but it’s even older. No internet (I will be uploading this on Saturday). No cell phone reception. The electrical outlets are only two prong so I can’t charge up anything. My phone is running out of juice and I’m typing this as fast as I can because I need enough computer juice to blog for two more nights- because if I don’t blog the day of, I ain’t bloggin! And I’m already down to 82%! Come on, MACBOOK PRO! YOU PROMISED LONG BATTERY LIFE...SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!

Oh yeah, and no television. But the girls don’t mind.

This morning I woke up to Chase standing before me in my bedroom wrapped in a scarf and knit cap and gloves. She was ready for adventure. Charlie stayed up late last night packing her bag as well (three journals: 1 for “Yosemite” themed entries, 1 for “Personal” entries, and 1 for “taking notes.”)

As we drove past Raymond, Coarsegold, and Oakhurst, my heart ached while my thoughts wandered on about my nephew Richie, and I came away from those thirty miles more resolute than ever that life is just too fucking short to worry about... well... much. So too-big-shoes, fuck you, I’m going to ride you like a three cent burro.

Our journey ended wonderfully as we discovered Yosemite quite blanketed in crystalline snow. Charlie, up until today, still bitterly reminded me of how she didn’t get to go to the snow ONCE all last year... so I think today made up for it. The snow was soft as shaved ice and over a foot deep. The girls squealed and ran around and threw snowballs and got nice and wet and chilled and happy as can be. Today, we lived. But now I’m at 79%! Gotta go!

THURSDAY

I don’t know how my computer went from 79% to 74% without me doing anything...WAIT!, now 73%! Okay, today we tackled the waterfalls of Yosemite. After a hearty breakfast at the Wawona, we packed into the car on our way to Bridalveil Falls. But first, we drove through Tunnel View and WHOA...

...once you exit out of the tunnel through the mountain, the beauty of Yosemite Valley is just UNLEASHED on you all at once. I don’t think I’ve ever had my breath literally taken away by nature before, but this did it. Half Dome in the distance...Bridalveil thundering down nearby. We took oodles of pictures and as we were walking back to the car I kept finding myself looking back over my shoulder for just one more eyeful.

The hike to Bridalveil was nothin! It took fifteen minutes and then we were right in the heart of the refreshing morning mist produced by the waterfall. That was also a new experience for all of us. But as we were walking back down, Charlie kept complaining that the hike was far too easy.

We next scampered to the base of Yosemite Falls. Another easy hike. Charlie kept pushing to take the difficult hike to the top- she wanted a challenge. But we had another waterfall to see.

After lunch, we tackled the hike to Vernal Falls. An “EASY” hike all the books said. .8 Miles. No problem. Charlie was complaining it was wayee too easy before we even took step one. But halfway up, and I mean UP, we were all gasping for air. Charlie and Chase wanted to just turn around and go back down. But I wouldn’t quit, because there was an old man with a cane up ahead that was just kicking our ass! So as I urged everyone on, Chase remarked, “Well let’s go then, so we can get this over with!” Then she’d march on up ahead of us.

I don’t know what it is about all hikes we take. It was this way with Manoa Falls in Hawaii as well. Everyone says it’s short and easy, and it always ends up feeling like a death march! I mean, are we ALL that out of shape? Luckily, I wore a double layer of socks, so my too-big shoes were handling the hike like two champions on my toes. Now, I’m very grateful for those shoes because everything right now in Yosemite- every trail, every walkway, every driveway, everyTHING is just muddy and damp and puddled and soaked with melting snow. The shoes are doing their job.

I was really hoping to continue past the bridge at Vernal Falls to the “MISTY TRAIL” which runs up to the top of the falls for another mile or so, but nobody else wanted to (And my heart probably would have just popped in my ribs if I had tried anyway.) But once we reached the bridge to Vernal Falls we all stopped for seaweed and peanut cookies, and Charlie whipped out her notebook to sketch some birds. Sitting on that rock in the wilderness with all the sounds of the wild around her, sketching away... Charlie reminded me of Darwin. Charlie has a blooming enthusiasm for birds. Before the trip I bought her a guidebook to Common Birds of North America, and she’s had quite a good time spying Yosemite’s feathered friends and noting what they are, then sketching them down.

Shitze!...at 69%! I should be getting off the computer now because I am so exhausted from our day. Okay, so we didn’t trek through the back country. But we saw snow-capped beauty everywhere we looked, and on our way to our activities this morning we saw a coyote on the side of the road.

FRIDAY

Alright. Power is no longer an issue. My blog is no longer in jeopardy, my dear readers, because I spied a three-pronged electrical outlet in the hotel lobby and that’s where I am right now- with Charlie dutifully at my side. She’s working on her notebooks while I refine the blog and type on.

If anyone dare label yesterday’s adventures as the “Day of the Waterfalls” then today was the “Day of the Trees.” Today we visited the Mariposa Sequoia Grove. Ah, but therein lies “the rub.” The road to the Sequoias was CLOSED. Too much snow! So what do you do when you’re in Yosemite and a road is closed but you still want to see something? You walk, naturally. And even more naturally, it was two miles of uphill walking. You’d think that we had learned our lesson yesterday and would just remain in our hotel rooms in fetal position for the day. But nah!

Instead, we chose to take an even LONGER hike than the one to Vernal Falls. True, the two mile journey was ON a road with tall snow embankments, but the incline was cruel. And the trek seemed forever.

We stopped many times, but stopping had its perks, because it gave Charlie plenty of chances to take photos of just about everything. Both girls took every possible opportunity to scoop up some snow and throw it around, as well.

But once we reached the Sequoia Grove we were walking in a virtual winter wonderland. Our trail to the ancient trees was snow covered and from every direction all around us as we walked along were icy brooks of melted snow running downward under snow and fallen trees and mountain reeds. The sound of the forest complimented by impromptu tiny waterfalls and babbling brooks just made every aching muscle worthwhile.

Is it possible to respect a tree? I think so. I think if you’re not feeling something close to that when standing before the 3000 year-old Grizzly Giant, then you’re probably kind of a jerk. It was awe inspiring.

And then oddly opposite that, just fifty yards away, was the California Tunnel Tree, and old tourist attraction where a tunnel has been carved through the ancient tree. And when you walk through the tree every available inch is covered with carved initials and all sorts of other human created bullshit. It was odd. People travel all that way to see a tree just to carve it. Silly humans. That’s probably why you don’t live to be 3000 years-old.

On our way out of the Grove we discovered a wonderful little tiny waterfall where we all took pictures, and happily claimed it for our own. If any of you ever want to visit Dodge Falls, it’s halfway up the trail to the Grizzly Giant, behind a rather young Sequoia. It's a great picture spot. (Editor's Note: Poses were not provoked.)

After making back down from he trail the Dodge Quartet picnicked on the porch of the Wawona, noshing hungrily on sub sandwiches and baked Cheetoh’s and washing all down with Hansen’s Root Beer, Pink Lemonade, and one Sierra Nevada. Then we all went back to the room and completely passed out.

A note about the Wawona Hotel. The shower completely skeeved me out- it is an old timey claw-footed tub and a curtain that runs around its perimeter- making you feel like you are showering in a stranger’s uterus. But that really was my only problem with this nice little spot. The Wawona is a pleasant little place just stuffed with out-of-the-way charm. At night, we go to sleep to the crooning of a family of frogs that have taken up residence in the hotel’s pool that is drained for the season- yet filled halfway with melted snow water. The lobby has board games and crayons. There is a room with a piano player that sings old standards from the 30s from 6 to about 9:30 every night. And the porch is a place where you can just recline in a white wicker lounge chair in peace, and stare to some far off point and let your mind heal from all the daily scars made by life.

And I think overall that is what Yosemite can do for people. It helps them heal. Sure, there is the scrambling around to see all the “this’s and that’s” but all you have to do here is just pick a place. And close your eyes. And listen. And smell. And feel.