[Geary]

No doggie pic, but I've got a Zuzu story for you. Many years ago, living on Maui, my girlfriend and I were driving down the back road from 2,000 ft elevation (Kula Glen) to Kahului town 15 miles away. Less than a quarter mile from our house, we saw a large black lab mix slowly walking up the hill. The dog looked like many others we'd see cruising rural Maui, and we didn't think much of it.

The next morning, we wake up to find the very same dog laying by our front door. We lived down a 400-ft driveway (flag lot), hidden from the main road. In fact, unless you knew our house, you wouldn't know anyone lived back there. It was an older dog, dead tired and she couldn't walk. In fact, she didn't take more than a dozen steps over the next couple days. No ID, so we of course adopted her. (I make it a rule to adopt any animal that adopts me.)

Three weeks later, one of my surf buddies comes by our house, and we're shocked when he says, “My dog!” It dawned on me that of course .. the dog looked familiar because I'd seen her a number of times before. I'd actually known her mother, owned by another friend, who always marveled at how her great watch dog Maya barked like crazy at virtually every visitor, except me. Maya had a litter of pups and Maile was one of five that all looked similar.

Anyhow, here we were .. Maile wagged her tail at her owner, and he graciously said, “Let's let Maile choose”. Would Maile jump in Glenn's truck, or not? Maile chose to stay. We were pretty happy about that, but we were still astounded that this dog would walk approximately 18 miles, from the opposite side of the valley (Waikapu) between Maui's two mountain ranges, through the cane field roads, specifically to our house. Had she ever been there in the back of Glenn's truck? We couldn't remember. I do remember what Glenn said to me before he drove away .. “Yeah, Morley (his wife) sometimes beats her, so I can see why she ran away.”

Maile lived out her remaining couple years with us before age caught up, and she could no longer walk. It was one of the saddest days of my life when I had to carry this 80-pound dog into the vet's office. The vet was an incredible human being, and after he'd administered “the shot” he came out and said, “You can come in now, if you want.” He let me spend Maile's last few minutes with her head cradled in my arms. The doctor assumed I'd want to leave her there, but I said, “No, I'll take her home to be with us.” The doctor refused payment.

Maile had been one of the sweetest dogs I'd ever known. Not a vicious bone in her body. We buried her beneath the Pride of India tree, one of her favorite shade spots. Over the years, we buried a few favorite friends around the property, as we had a 2.5 acre place with feral cats who often would become semi-domesticated. And I'd also buried Kea, my tiny white poi dog who'd been poisoned by some scum.

Fast forward 3 or so years .. Some odd things happened between me and my old friend, Glenn. It turns out he wasn't the man we had thought he was. The truth was that it was HE who beat his dog .. and he beat his wife, too. (I bailed him out of jail, where he'd been tossed overnight for domestic abuse.) This low life had actually stooped to blaming his wife for abusing Maile. Everything we “knew” about him had been a facade. He'd had everyone snowed. And he still does to this day. Except me. I know the true Glenn.