The Real Salty Dawg

Grampa Speaks:

Me thinks there is an imposter masquerading as the Salty Dawg. The real story is this. Scott owns a row house in the Fells Point neighborhood of Baltimore, MD. When he was in residence there, my better half and I occasionally visited him and we had lunch at his local pub, the Wharf Rat. Good local brews and a special rate at the right times for three at a time. Sometimes we took a sail with Scott on a sailboat he had at the time for a day sail. Scott has plans for installing me in an old folks home about two blocks from the pub, but that’s another story.

One of our (now) eight dogs, Sho-me, an American Eskimo, sometimes came along with us for these adventures. The first time he went out for a sail with us, several hundred yards from the dock when we were just getting underway, Sho-me decided he saw something that interested him off the port side and leaped off the boat in pursuit. I think he had in mind that the water was just a puddle and he would have firm footing to give chase. Imagine his surprise when he began to doggy paddle and we were sailing merrily away.

Well, I couldn’t let a disaster befall poor Sho-me, and fortunately I was in a swimming suit and tee-shirt, so I immediately dove in to stay with him until Scott could bring the boat around and pick us up. Later in the sail we anchored off an island and we took Sho-me onshore to do his ablutions, explore the local habitat, and give chase to the wildlife there. Understandably, he was a little unsure that this was safe as we disembarked (jumped into the water and swam ashore), but in the end he thoroughly enjoyed the expedition, as did we all, and he eagerly awaited future trips to Baltimore.

Although I enjoy the trips to Baltimore to visit with Scott, I do not look forward to the old folks home he has planned for me, even though it is only two blocks from a very enjoyable pub. Sho-me has a different opinion. He also enjoyed lying underneath the table at the pub and scarfing up treats from the lunches we had. I think he also remembers that cute American Eskimo he met on one of our trips, whose owner was considering breeding her. We left contact information for Sho-me as a stud with her owner, but alas, Sho-me never heard again from her. So goes life.





We were in a pretty tight channel coming out of the marina when Sho-Me and Grampa went overboard. I did a u-turn to pick them up. Fortunately, we didn't run aground, even though we went out of the channel. Could have been an oh s*** story, but everything worked out fine. Sho-Me wouldn't leave the cockpit during the trip out to Hart-Miller Island. But he got his sea legs back swimming to the island, and had more fun on the return trip.

The bottom two pics are from the day Grampa gave me his old washer and dryer. If you know anything about old row houses, you know it was quite a job getting them up the stoop steps, through the tight doorways, and down into the cellar. Building codes in the 1800s weren't what they are today.