It is a beautiful San Francisco morning. The Mission is alive and awake and brilliant in the sun. The sun which I am coming to perceive as the burning ball of heat (as opposed to hate). My thin pacific blood is still not adjusted to the cold northern California weather, and the warmth from the sun feels amazing on my face.
It was late morning by the time I got out of bed and ventured forth with Cobain for a morning walk and hunt for coffee. On the way out Max asked me to pick up some fruit since there was none in the house (and I wouldn't want to risk getting scurvy now, would I.) So Dorie and Dog headed first to Valencia Joe's. Cobain and I are getting used to walking each other. I never had to walk Mia so remembering all the training and non verbal communication that goes on between dog and guardian is always... challenging for me. I just let my girl (Mia) run wild, with this boy dog (Cobin) I have to be much more on top of what is going on. At Valencia Joe's I fasten up Cobain outside and with a kiss I tell him to be a good boy, while I go in and get a cup of coffee. He is perfect and obeys. After I procure cup of coffee number one, we head back towards mission to the little corner store that carries fun produce. All the way there Cobain acts like the super star he is. It is his neighborhood and he seems to have an appropriate following. The little Indian man at the corner says hello, mostly to Cobain I think. I give him a warm smile and hello as well. Cobain sniffs his crotch in greeting. The old man giggles. Two homeless gentlemen sitting on the sidewalk greet Cobain and pet him adoringly. I wish them a good morning. Cobain again goes right for the crotch sniff. We walk on down 19th street together proudly, girl and dog. Any good dog person can see we are quite obviously falling in love with each other.
Several Mexican men are standing outside our corner market when we arrive. I fasten up Cobain in the middle of their gathering. They don't seem to mind at all. They offer me warm smiles and Cobain angles himself to be pet and adored (and get in a few good crotch sniffs of course). I once again tell him to be good. I take the last of my coffee and go into the store to see what exotic fruit I can find. I find a mango, some bananas, two small ripe tomatoes and an avocado. I let the elderly woman buying just milk go ahead of me since I am in no hurry and she seems to be. Cobain is still holding court when I return to him on the sidewalk. He is happy to see me none the less and as I was just finished with my cup of coffee I toss the cup in the trash can and we head off for the Dance Cafe so I can get Cup #2. It's just up the street and the lady behind the counter is a georgous Indian woman who lets me bring Cobain in with me. She pours me more coffee and compliments my handsome and well behaved dog. We stand and preen together for a moment in her adoration. I compliment the Indian music she has playing, and she tells me about the musician. I remember how much I enjoy the cultural diversity of San Francisco. Cobain and I are done with our errands so we head home. As we stand at the light waiting to cross Mission street a garbage truck pulls up and the man in side gives us a "Have a happy Sunday" nod and motions for us to cross. Cobain does his adorable puppy prance across the street, and once we reach the other side he come back to my side to heel perfectly. He matches my stride. He is good dog.
It is true I am having trouble adjusting. I am scared about going back to school, and I am disappointed that now that I am home my best friend is going to run off on his great adventure (in about a month). But I DO love it here. Despite the cold, and the consumerism, and the hurry hurry way of life, this is indeed my home. And this is where I need to be.