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that huge research vessel, and who knows, we might even find Chino's galleon. Beats sitting at a dock in the Sea of Cortez with the air-conditioner droning away twenty-four seven."
    "I've heard summers in the Sea are brutal. It ain't gonna be exactly dandy over here, either."
    "I'll bet. I read somewhere that Dubai stays over a hundred all summer. Sounds like Vegas. Nothing near that here, but the humidity is fierce. Decisions, decisions. Anyhow, if I put the boat in Santa Rosalia or La Paz and go with Jan and Chino in Mag Bay, I can still drive back for meetings at the mine, I'll have a place to live, and built-in dog sitters. Just sounds like the best thing to do." Since I prefer to live.
    After we exchanged 'I-love-and-miss-you's', I called Texas, needing the comfort of hearing my mom's drawl. Of course, there is no way I’d let her know I was most likely neck deep in cow patties again, or that I was lonely and scared. Why worry the parents unnecessarily?
    “Hetta Honey, I have some bad news for you.”
    Oh, great, just what I need right now.
    “Everything okay with you and Dad?” I asked, which was all I really cared about.
    “We’re just fine. But your Uncle Fred died.”
    I rubbed my eyes. The nighty-night pills were starting to kick in. “Uh, I didn’t know I had an Uncle Fred.” We have a large family in Texas, but danged if I could remember an Uncle Fred.
    “Well, you do. Or did. He and your aunt Lillian were married a few months back.”
    “Oh, that uncle. They never last long enough for me to remember their names. The way Lil runs through husbands it’s no wonder I don’t know who they are. Did she kill him off, like she usually does?”
    “Het- ta , if you’re going to be that way I’m hanging up.”
    “Sorry, Mom. I know Lil is your big sister, but what number husband is this? Six? And let’s face it, she gets them out of what Dad calls the drunk tank at the VA, then they fall into the bottle together. If she’d leave them where they were getting help, they’d probably all still be alive.”
    “Fred had a weak heart.”
    “Well, marrying Lil sure as hell couldn’t have helped that. Where are they? Last I heard they went to Mazatlan.”
    “Still are. Well, she is. Fred passed in a hospital there.”
    “Good thing. If he’d died at home the Feds would have her in custody.” Actually the idea of my aunt in a Mexican clink appealed to me, but I didn’t share that, and changed the subject. “So what else is happening?”
    “Nothin’ much. Your father wants to take the RV to Canada this summer, so I guess we’ll leave next month. Oh, he just walked in, so here he is.”
    Dad took the phone and we talked more about their RVing, and my plans to join Jan and Chino on the galleon/treasure hunt for the summer. While we were talking about that, Mom yelled in the background, telling him to tell me to use sunblock and for him to ask me about Jenks. Daddy dutifully did both. My parents really like Jenks and are worried, as I'm wont to do, that I'll scare him off. This latest escapade just might do the trick.
     
    Jan and I were up and about by noon, although still a little fuzzy from too much booze and tension, and not enough rest. I took her to her Jeep and picked up Po Thang, who seemed ecstatic to see me. He circled and whined, telling me just what an old meanie I'd been, but quickly dashed for the pickup to ensure his old meanie didn't leave him again.
    It had been a few years since my last dog, RJ, died and I'd forgotten how nice it was to always be greeted by a fluffy critter who didn't give a damn whether you were drunk, or sick, or whatever, just so you are there . Po Thang actually seems to like morning breath.
    RJ, the dearly departed, was also a rescue dog. I got him out of the Oakland pound, where he was deemed basically un-adoptable because of his crappy attitude. I figured we were meant for each other. Unable to come up with a name, I called him Dawg for a few weeks until Jan,