Twelfth Day – Dish Debacle at Fiddler’s Cove

This morning, I woke up with an optimistic feeling about my chances of defeating the Dish Gremlins that have plagued us since our arrival here. It’s very perplexing to have such difficulty with a system that has functioned perfectly for us all up and down the west coast, into Montana & Utah, and pretty much ever where else. Then we started this adventure, and we’re currently parked in probably one of the best areas in the world for complete access to every satellite ever launched in the last 150 years. There must be something about going south that Dish just doesn’t like. Making matters worse (for me) the Dish support folk’s solution for everything is to rescan the channels, over and over. I’m really tired of doing that.

I guess I’m just being a whiner, aren’t I? But that doesn’t really matter because I’m the customer which makes me always right. Right? Now I must pause and plan the rest of my day. It’s only 0930 but I’m sure I need a nap.

No, no nap. Not yet, anyway. Instead, we put Max in the car and headed to Imperial Beach so Diane could get her toes done. She does that once in a while. Max and I dropped her at the nail place and continued on to the Veteran’s Dog Park so Max could run free. He hasn’t done that in a while.

When we got to the park there were 3 big dogs who greeted to him, and everything seemed to be Ok. Then, all the sudden one of the big guys got a little pushy and Max objected with a growl, then the fight was on. The big dog grabbed Max by the neck and shook him like a dishrag and I was sure he was going to die. It was pretty horrible. Ignoring all the things about getting into the middle of a dog fight, I got into the middle of it because no one else seemed to be doing anything.

I succeeded in getting Max away from the big dog and he seemed to be OK and I was amazed. I later found one puncture wound on the back of Max’s neck and that was all. Me? My right arm and hand were well used in the extraction and I’m OK with that. Max survived. Had I not intervened when I did, I have no doubt he would have died.

The owner of the attack dog helped clean up my wounds using some supplies provided by a gentleman who apparently lives in his car in the parking lot. Then I went back to the toenail place to get Diane. She was a little surprised to find me with my right arm all bandaged up and, after hearing the story, took Max back to the RV and took me to the Sharp Coronado Hospital Emergency Department. It’s interesting because they appear to be working in the parking lot and that’s where patients wait until the doc can see them. I asked the nurse about that, and she said they’ve been working that way for the last two years. Seems to work OK because from the time I checked in, saw the doctor, got cleaned up, got my tetanus shot, drove to Walgreen’s for my prescription, then back to the RV was about 1.5 hours. That would never happen at home.

The wounds were much more impressive while they were bleeding and lost their splendor once they were cleaned up and bandaged.

Now it’s all wrapped up. And they hurt, especially the one on my forearm. I’m looking forward to seeing how colorful my arm is tomorrow.

Other damage is to both shoulders and my left shoulder was almost normal again. I guess I am destined to have sore shoulders forever. That sounds like a complaint, I know, but I’d do it again to save our little dog.

The dog that gnarled on us is the one on the left. The more I think about the attack, the more I’m convinced that Max was the instigator. We know how touchy he is to be bumped by a foot and I’m pretty sure he threw the first punch. So, perhaps he learned a lesson. Doubt it, but you never can tell.