It's like if Hurley was that guy in your college class, he'd be the guy that all the girls loved because he was so blonde and handsome in that beachy way and friendly and totally genuine and polite and fun and goofy and totally respectful and cooked things like eggplant parmesan and ginger crusted baked salmon with vegetables and drank tea and always looked at you in the eyes when you were talking to him and treated everyone as if they were the only person in the room and kept an endearingly messy apartment they'd all want to take him home to mom.
And all the guys would like him too because he'd be the life of the party but not in that obnoxious way and he'd be good at all the sports he played but he would only play intramurals because he'd rather spend time with his friends who he was completely loyal to and always took care of and was always the funniest guy in the room and was always willing to lend a hand when you were carrying your new chest of drawers up the steps or listen to you when you vented or offer a shoulder to cry on when your parent was sick or go get a beer when you just wanted to get a beer. And is it weird that I've made up a human life for my dog?
Anyway, that was Hurley. If he was human.
So as you can imagine, Hurley was pretty popular in our neighborhood. Everyone knew who he was, whether or not they knew who B and I were.
In particular, there is a young girl who lives in the apartment across the street from us who loved coming over to play with Hurley. We would often get a knock on the door and open it up to a smiling second grader who was all hi Hurley's mom, can Hurley come out and play? And I'd be all what did you call me?
So I wasn't entirely surprised when I came home from work and found this in my mailbox.
Not even kidding. It took me a while to recover from that one. To thank her, B and I picked up a copy of Where the Red Fern Grows, one of our favorite childhood books, and gave it to her.
After our experiences with Hurley, we relate to the book more than ever. And, as it turns out, Rooney has a lot of coonhound blood in him too. In fact, he bears a striking resemblance to Old Dan.
So until the day I do write my book, I highly suggest you spend a few hours with Old Dan and Little Ann if you've never read the book. I also suggest you keep
As for me, I could use a bath in that gin right about now.