I have spent most of my years in Minnesota, living the Culinary dream which can elude many a skilled member of my vocation. Too suddenly, (after 35 years of fulfillment and award winning services) was my dream ripped from my grasp, ensuing an unsuspected battle of partnership, tug of war over my prospering restaurant endeavor with a collaborated ownership. In the wake of its devastating residuals...Kim and I, being dictated by the most destitute of circumstances, were forced to sell all we owned... to find good homes for our three Pyrenees pups and pack up our 1996 Silhouette van. Having nothing more than a few remaining articles of clothing, a cooler full of ice packs and some sandwich makings, we made preparations for our next possible future. Also, surrendered, was a brand new washer and dryer to our condo’s proprietor as payment towards our final month's rent. We then headed East with hopes to awaken with the warmth of a new and embracing sunrise. Unfortunately, Virginia’s warmth came at a cost we were not in a position to afford, and Kim’s prospected position would not compensate our means of financial necessities. So, we traveled the coastline...South. With no avail of vocational opportunity, our search rerouted our direction towards my home state of Minnesota. We started in Louisiana's most captivating city of New Orleans. Midway through the repetitiously, familiar landscapes of Arkansas, Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska and Iowa, we realized that its icy Winter's habitants wasn't exactly heaven to us, so we made a turn...West. Beauty and wonderment succeeded our journey into the vast landscapes of the Dakotas, Montana, Wyoming and Utah. Our many subsequent nights were spent sleeping in our vehicle, under the clear, starry skies of such venues as South Dakota’s Badlands, Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains and even faced the unsuspecting deserts of Utah’s Bald Mountain Mines after finally escaping the desolate elevations of the Ruby Mountains, weathering their brisk, bone chilling temperatures and frightening sounds of their unfamiliar landscape’s, well shrouded, wildlife banter. Although it grew clear to us; ensuing the already endured fitful nights beneath the "looting" bridges of New Jersey, New York and New Orleans and when affordable, spending a few hour's procurement in some slumlord’s motel room, only to be awakened by boisterous drug dealings and physical altercations that often resulted in a quick retreat from our "thirty dollar a night" barely heated shelter back into the safe-haven of our roving, miniature motor home, it was there we felt safe and Alive.
After thirty three days of traveling cross country, without success for either one of us, Kim and had finally received a promising phone call that curtailed us back to Iowa. Even though, this, not considered as one of our dream states, Davenport offered us a home. Kim was proffered a position as the assistant manager for one of the Mall's big box retailers. I, on the other hand, fell short of my search for creative and financial aspirations and after nine months of pondering, (and reattempting to put my 210 pound, out of shape, physique back into order) I withdrew my hunt for happy endings and decided to tote my last credit card’s, final available procurement around with me door to door; offering to provide our neighboring grasses an agricultural make-over. In laymen’s terms, I rendered my services as a manicurist to the neighborhood lawns at a very affordable price; therewith affording me with opportunity to contribute some sort of an end to our fast approaching state of penury. It was in the Winter of 2007, with the emotional help of a "Mommy's" heart, that I went out, in search of a furry critter for my lovingly supportive fiance, whose yearning for another canine running companion had strongly made its unsettling desires in need of resolve. In no time at all, we arrived at Davenport’s Humane Society in hopes to take home something that would tend to both our needs. Her’s, being to cuddle and care for. Mine...a bit less dependent. Therefor our decision was to adopt ....a kitten. Overlooking each tiny headed, big eyed, fur-ball of whisking whiskers, I found myself incapable of choosing only one. We decided to rescind our hasty actions and rethink its realities. As we approached the building’s egress we were stymied by a man who was asking all visitors to consider one of his rescues for adoption. He was in possession of three more canines than he was allotted and therefor was desperate to find them compatible homes. Not yet ready, (let alone, over the three pups we surrendered only one year ago) I quickly made decline of his offer. As he continued with his plea, he disclosed the possibility of having to put down a two year old Alaskan Malamute. This did not fair well with Kim’s heartstrings, what had already, once before held witness to such an unpleasant event as this, with her own beloved Buddy only a few years past. As Kim broke into tears over our mendicant’s purging cries, I agreed to entertain the suggestion of his proffering, but without committing to its outcome. Subsequently, once reached the desperate man’s abode, he escorted us to the lower dwelling of his residence and from the ground level’s outlooks, I saw this majestic, wolf-like creature taking run about in his back yard’s containment. In my heart were the beating drums of a Morse code, “If that is the dog in question, he’s coming home with me!” It was...and he did. Previously answering to the name of “Sully”, we offered him a new calling card. Kim was very much enthralled over the movie “The Gladiator” and its star role by Russell Crowe and “Maximus Decimus Meridius, was decided upon. Now, all that was needed was the succession to his title by my sir name, Terrell. Welcome to your new life and home...Max.
