
This is the earliest photo I have of Morty - I think it was taken in February of 1999 so about 6 months after we all moved into the 'Castle' in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside just beside Oppenheimer Park. The 'castle' was an older Victorian owned by a painter and creator of mosaics (Big Al). He had built a wall around his house and had plans to create a moat of sorts - every day he would dig up remarkable amounts of earth and carry it bucket for bucket to his truck (to be dumped surreptitiously at various constructions sites during the wee hours). Al was creating a basement (he could already almost stand under portions of the house and he was a big guy - 6 ft plus). He eventually wanted to reinforce the foundation with cement but never seemed to have the cash hence the increasing wobbliness of our home and some very disturbing shaking and shuddering whenever a truck passed by on Cordova.

I made it a point to move on quickly the next time Morty got into trouble. We were exploring the city with my closest friend from Germany when Morty discovered skateboarders and felt they needed to be stopped. He grabbed one in the calf before I could intervene and caused a nasty rip in some very expensive trousers - we coughed up a couple hundred bucks with no argument and hurried home before any numbers were exchanged.
Worst and final case was the older homeless woman close to home. She was wearing dark glasses and a hat that Morty attempted to remove before I could pull him off luckily before any harm was done. They actually did become friends eventually. He still doesn't like people who don't show their eyes but fortunately has never actually demonstrated his feelings on the matter again.
These incidents all happened within a couple of months and they stopped as quickly as they had occurred. I had visitors from Germany again and we drove over to the Island to see the sights. It was Morty's first trip and although he loved to ride in the car he was not happy in motels. I tried to leave him in the room only once - he almost came through the window after throwing himself at the door several times. I guess the experience with deplorable alcoholic beater guy had
left his mark and most indelibly with regards to separation. Morty does not like to be left alone and gets quite stressed at moves. Fortunately, he loves wheels and I do think it comes from that first road trip on Vancouver Island where he discovered that while we would change motel rooms every night, our car was always the same. To this day Morty would much rather stay in the car than at home. I think it's his safe place - a panic room of sorts - about a year ago, hours before a huge wind storm swept through the Okanagan Valley, Morty went to the van and just begged to get in. It was all I could do to convince him that we were safe in our apartment.
Morty is a survivor. He takes life as it comes and deals. I am most amazed at how few scars he bears from the hardship of his early years. He seems to have a never ending supply of love and gratitude for any little thing I do for him - be it food which he lives for, a walk or me just waking up in the morning and saying hello. Someone told me that a wonderful thing about dogs is that they never cease to make you smile at least 3, 4 times a day. This is definitely true.
The best part of that trip to the Island was Morty's discovery of the ocean. He just couldn't get enough and played in the wild waters of Long Beach for hours and ran with other dogs. When we returned to the city he was calmer and more relaxed. Jeet Kei called it his coming of age journey. It was the first of many road trips to come.

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