Then he kept asking to check the perimeter. He'd hop off the treadmill in the basement and head upstairs. Except I wouldn't hear the door open or close for a while. A couple of times I didn't hear the door open or close at all. Finally, I heard the door open and not close. After a while, I checked things out.
No Cal. I walked around, puzzled. I asked the border collie, but he was busy reading The Economist. Then i realized something else was missing.....
....my snack accomplice had skiddadled as well. A couple of hours later I get a phone call. From the bus depot. Cal and his bride are off to Flint, Michigan to start a new life. Cal says he fell for her sleek lines, her multiple settings and her way around the kitchen. But Flint is the Rust Belt! I pleaded. Not a good place for you two! Too late. He's head over heels, or in his case, handles over spatula. And me? I'm out an assistant and my snacks.
Don't be too tough on Cal, Riley T. Any good coach will tell you that training and romance don't mix. You're well rid of him. He should have told you about the bride, but was probably just hoping to earn enough money for two bus tickets. And he should not have stolen your hot dog toaster--especially when the border collie and had just shown you how to make a mean Puparoni Dog.
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