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Happy 2017, peeps! Ella here. Though I just last checked in with you six weeks ago following my trip to Macon, my New Year’s resolution is to blog more—oh wait, that’s Mom’s New Year’s resolution. I’m actually too lazy to come up with my own, so I’ll just borrow hers and roll with it, cool?
Since our last chat, I’ve actually been on four planes, thus breaking my three-year, no-fly streak.
I’m basically a champion road warrior, though, so it was no big thing. I rolled through those airports—up and down the escalator on repeat—and right on through the TSA lines like a boss and got lots of attention, as I like it.
Mom and Dad figured since they were staying with friends in Fort Collins, then I could tag along to Colorado. I don’t actually know why that would matter either way, but apparently they say that hotels aren’t always fond of my kind, for which I borrow a page out of Stephanie Tanner’s book. How rude!
But Fort Collins seemed to be a friend of the nation within, as I was allowed to come inside at several different places like Maxline Brewery and New Belgium.
Thank dog, as it was COLD outside! As a Maltese, I’m a proud owner of a full head of hair but was not blessed with fur, so I can’t quite handle the 20 degrees like a breed twice my staggering size might.
You wouldn’t know it looking at me as I do love to frolic in the snow.
Or well, the dead, crunchy grass as the case was when we went to Estes Park. I had these grand visions of the three feet of snow I’d be plowing through, and what I found instead was this?!?
I want a refund, Colorado!
Still, I suppose—SIGH—it was OK hanging out with Mom and Dad, no matter the conditions. (Mom told me to say that, can you tell?) The snow can wait.
I did learn something on that trip, and that’s the fact that I’m pretty much a professional ice skater.
Kristy Yama-who? She’s got nothing on me! I was born to triple-axel!
We then headed into the town of Estes Park to defrost our little paws where I was welcomed by Elkins Distilling Co’s canine greeter with a very warm embrace.
I matched the decor! I was obviously born to be a distillery dog, too. Ollie was friendly, and I liked him (which is more than I can say for the majority of my species I encounter). He even shared his whiskey with me.
In fact, I liked him much so that when he pulled a trick out of my own playbook—the old high-five, always guaranteed to impress the humans—I didn’t even try to show him up. How’s that for a bit of humility?
On our final day before flying back home to my collection of stuffed monkeys in balmy Tennessee, we headed to Denver early where we were supposed to meet up with Mom’s friend and colleague Lauren.
But first, we strolled around RiNo—which confused me as I always thought that was what they called that horned animal I’ve been told to steer clear of if should I ever find myself in the bush of South Africa (I later learned it stood for River North Art District … then why don’t they just call it that in the first place?!)—in the biting wind until it was time to find Lauren.
The plan was to go for a brewskie or two—you may have heard, but Colorado is known for its breweries—only we were in for an unpleasant awakening after discovering that Denver had passed an ordinance last year banning dogs from all breweries, even on the patios. WHAT! Imagine if us of the superior species banned you people from our ‘hood (the great outdoors, obviously).
Instead, we met Lauren in a park where I got to chase geese but it was so bitterly cold, none of us—no names (though I’m pointing my paw at you, humans)—lasted very long. I’ve decided if you don’t care for my kind, Denver, than I definitely don’t care for you. You’ve seen the last of this jetsetting pup!
Colorado may not have given me snow (or beer in Denver for that matter), but I did get my dose of that white fluffy powder when we jetted off to upstate Washington for a week. Guess you’ll just have to tune in next time and read all about that adventure!
Until then,
Ella
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