Loren & I were dropped off at River Street around 10:30 by a nice mechanic. We had about three hours to fill, so we set off for the waterfront. The streets are cobblestones in parts with stairs so steep it takes your breath away, architecture hundreds of years old. It’s a very cool place, with lots of parks and memorials built at every corner.

"Rolling, rolling, rolling on the river!"

Loren enjoyed the sights and sounds, stopping frequently for shade breaks. We found the Dockside Restaurant, which had not only a first-floor patio but misters (!) to offset the heat. The crab chowder was pretty good, the salad not so much. However, the homemade key lime pie was stellar - light, tart, creamy with a crumbly graham cracker crust. Very refreshing. Probably the best I’ve ever had.


A slice of cool, creamy refreshment.

Even better was the service. Our waitress, Melina, sat with Loren twice while I went to the restroom. That is a challenge when sightseeing with a dog - because I refuse to leave her tied up and alone. Besides stray dogs, my second biggest fear is her being dog napped. Which is kind of crazy - they can’t give away pit bulls at shelters - but you never know.


"Thanks for babysitting me!"

Melina told me she has a red-nosed pit, which she bought from a breeder - she was having second thoughts as she surveyed the scene, but the puppy she picked was so sick and run down, she felt in her own way that she was rescuing it.

Loren the charmer brought the hostess over a few times, who cooed at her. “I’m usually afraid of pit bulls, but this one’s so sweet,” I overheard her telling Melina. (She also chastised people walking by with McDonalds cups. “Oh no, you did not come to Savannah, Georgia and have McDonalds for breakfast?” she chastised them sweetly. Major points for the hostess).

I really wanted to go to the praline shop (!) but again, what to do with my canine companion? (It was probably for the best…I try to limit myself to one dessert a day…even on vacation). When I heard some live music, it felt like a good time to take a break.

The musician was playing a banjo and harmonica simultaneously, singing songs from Sublime, Third Eye Blind, and get this, Gloria Gaynor (“I Will Survive”). They all took on a Bob Dylan/Deliverance vibe which eventually grew monotonous, but for 15 minute or so, I was utterly charmed and sang along, even getting inexplicably teary-eyed.


"Freebird! Freebird!"


"You've got a problem with Freebird?"

Listening to the music, watching Loren panting happily as the river boats cruised by, stuffed full of tasty food, the sun playing on the water - major gratitude filled my heart for being able to take this trip.

A street artist named LaVon came over to meet Loren and sell me a rose which he made from a native sugar palm leaf. “What’s your name?” he asked me after getting the traditional Loren greeting (i.e. a hug and slobbery kiss).

"Wassup?"

“Michelle,” I replied.

He smiled. He was missing four front teeth. “Michelle! I’ve had experiences with Michelles. One that was great, one that was not so good,” he said and looked me square in the eye. “You look like one of the good ones. I can tell.”

LaVon, I’m sure, is a junkie. His eyes are glazed and yellow and he spoke in a shuffling cadence that I could barely understand as he quickly fashioned my rose with his leathery hands, explaining each step. It was beautiful, intricately wound and finished with a wispy flourish. The cost was $5 - “A special deal for you,” LaVon assured me. Uh huh. I gave him $1 tip. We all have to make a living.


A rose by any other name...

At 1:30 pm. I called the shop. It would be another hour. At 2:30 p.m. I called again. It would still be another half hour. I asked to be picked up and was told a mechanic would come get me. At 3 p.m. no mechanic and no call. I called again - the driver would be called and asked to call me. 3:15 p.m. I called again. The driver “had gotten into an accident.” Um, thanks for the call!

Was he f’ing kidding me? Was this a strange sort of Southern customer service ? I was slowly losing my patience. You don’t leave a California girl in a strange town without her car - it’s like taking Linus’ security blanket away.

“We can send a cab for you,” I was told.

“I don’t care who you send for me, just tell me who it is and when they’re going to be here,” I said.

“I’ll call you back,” he said.

Surprise, just a few minutes later, my car was done and the mechanic who dropped us off would pick us up. At 4 p.m. he came. By this time, I was pretty wiped out. Loren was good about the whole scene. She just hung out by my side and thwacked her tail whenever she spotted people, especially when they came over to pet her.

We had a two hour drive to Dublin, where Mark & Julie live. I was so tired, I periodically slapped myself to stay awake until I found a station playing really bad 80s music, which kept me enthralled wondering how the hell these songs could have ever been hits. (There’s a reason Taco’s “Putting on the Ritz” is not in heavy rotation. My pick for worst 80s song, however, is “Safety Dance“ by Wang Chung. Seriously…what were we on?)

It was7 p.m. when we pulled up to Mark & Julie’s lovely brick home. Loren ran right up to the front door. Inside, she sniffed around incessantly, intensely preoccupied with some of the stuffed animals Mark had killed while hunting. She was especially interested in the massive wolf.

“If that wolf was alive, you wouldn’t be so curious,” Julie told her.

After a delicious dinner of grilled chicken with a vinegar-based sauce, mozzarella, tomato, and avocado salad, grilled corn and roasted Vidalia onions (a special sweet variety native to Georgia), we went beyond their gorgeous 7-acre property, which shares a look with neighboring homes, to look at some of the other estates.

Mark stopped at the fence of their neighbors and called over their horses. They came trotting over and I looked at Loren, wondering if she would try to attack them. She stood up on the fence with Mark, watching intently. It was quite a scene, with the sun setting behind them.


"Hark..who goes there?"

Icould see the wheels turning in her head. “These creatures are a lot bigger than me,” she seemed to be thinking. “I better just let them be.” So she did, backing off.


"Whoa, Nellie!"

“Wow, Winston would always bark at the horses,” Julie said.

Winston was their lab who died in March at the age of 13. I could tell Mark and Julie missed him, as well as Hewey, a female who died just a few months before Winston. They treated Loren as if she were their own, constantly petting her and letting her kiss them. “She’s such a sweetie,” they both said repeatedly.

We had a great night’s sleep in the guest room, with some of the most divine pillows on earth, not getting up until 8 a.m. Julie and I had some cereal and a nice chat before I took a shower. Before I got in, I noticed Julie laying on the ground with Loren, stroking and talking to her. They were in the same position when I got out 20 minutes later.

I told Julie I’d be happy to ship Loren to them, should they be interested in adopting her. She just smiled at me - they travel too much to have a dog, I’d been told. (A girl can have hope…)

320 miles were ahead of us, a fairly long day of driving, so we bid Julie goodbye at 10 a.m. The drive was gorgeous - Georgia’s got grass for days and lush farmland for miles. We stopped for peaches on Hwy 441, the only fruit stand that would sell me half a basket, and picked up some candied pecans and BBQ sauce, too. The peach was so juicy, it squirted all over my clothes and ran down my hand. I needed a bib. It was perfect.


"Moving to the country, gonna eat me a lot of peaches..."

When the mountains of Asheville came into view, the trees so dense they looked like broccoli crowns in the distance, my heart stopped. It felt like home. Our hotel is pretty old-school, but in a charming, rather than grungy way. The air is fresh out here and there is plenty of grass for Loren to take her potty breaks on. Yeah.

On the tip of my “USA” guidebook, we went to look for Early Girl Eatery in the downtown area. It was closed, but there was a patio at Market Place Restaurant right down the road. What a serendipitous find. A $29, three-course prix fix menu that rocked my world.

A potato leek soup started the meal off - light and springy, with a bit of piquant pepper sauce, which when swirled into the soup, added a welcome bit of spice. The main course, a strip steak with blue cheese butter, was artfully arranged and even better than it looked. The meat was expertly grilled medium rare and finished with a bit of sea salt, the savory butter melding into the meat, which swam in a sea of creamy cauliflower puree. I groaned with delight.


A savory work of art

Loren, who is becoming quite the café society girl, looked at me and I couldn’t help myself - I sucked off the sauce and shared about five little pieces with her. It was the least I could do, considering how great she was being.

Dinner was finished with a molten chocolate lava cake with ice cream. Yeah, it was as good as it sounds, even better. It was all I could do to keep from licking the plate.

The chef, named Michelle, came out to greet us and I praised her effusively. It was so nice to see food this thoughtfully composed - especially from such a young chef. How could she be so talented already?

Michelle squatted down to pet Loren and told me about her own dog, a young Australian shepherd. “Someone dumped a box of 10 puppies on the road, where they weren’t found for over a week,” she said. “They were in pretty bad shape. I rescued one of them.”

An awesome chef and a dog person. We might just have to go back tomorrow night.

"Good steak...got any more?"

In the morning, we are going to explore the Blue Ridge Parkway, as early as possible so Miss Thang doesn‘t overheat. It’s not as humid out here and tonight it’s actually a little cool, so hopefully we can get a bit of hiking under our belts. I definitely need the exercise after all these decadent meals.

On a separate note, I have to share - I am getting so attached to Loren. I just adore her. She is just a fantastic dog, more so than I ever anticipated. For those who don’t know, I haven’t adopted her because of my two pit bull mixes, Sam and Buster, who have enough issues of their own without adding another pit in the mix. Sigh.

I wonder if I am doing more harm than good with this trip - making Loren think I am her person, then taking her back to a kennel. Or is that putting human psychology on an animal? Right now, we’re spending 24/7 together, so it‘s even more heightened that just bringing a dog home and resuming your everyday life. We’re joined at the hip.

I pray, pray, pray that someone is going to fall in love with Loren like I and most of the people along this trip have and give her the life she deserves. She has it pretty good at the Brittany Foundation, don’t get me wrong, it’s just not as ideal as a home of her own. Hopefully, Loren will have four or five worthy people to choose from waiting to adopt her when we return on July 5^th. That is my ultimate dream for her (and her kennel mates, too).

Until then, we’ll just continue to take it one day at a time and enjoy this incredible opportunity to see the country. You never know what tomorrow will bring.

 
"Are you my furr-ever family?"