Professional
I have a problem. My problem arises every time I invite people to my house. The problem is that if any stranger, passer-by or casual onlooker happens to pass my threshold, it is not entirely unlikely that our 60 pound red-nosed pit-bull terrier will jump on them. It's scary to have a dog barrel down on me at pounce in a oddly hilarious linebacker-style tackle. He's not a wild dog and no one is ever in any real danger, since he only tackles guys and getting tackled by a 60 pound dog is kinda like getting tackled by a school boy. It is, however, quite put-offish. My house is my business, I rent rooms to pay the mortgage, so having a dog that jumps on prospective tenants is actually quite expensive.
Roscoe, the dog, and Chris, the human, are by all means good animals. I live with them so I know this as certainly as you can be about any living thing. Kicking them out of my home is the right buisness decision, but I am not sure it is the right desicion. I think a lot of what scares people about Roscoe are preconcieved notions about the disposition of a breed of dog know as pit bulls, just like what scares people about Chirs and Andy are preconcieved notions about the disposition of a breed of humans known as blacks and latinos. I wasn't really willing to kick him out on the premise that he was a bad dog.
The expense of it had finally gotten to me. Having an empty room for a month is expensive, so I decided on the first of May if I hadn't found a tenant I'd have to give the ruinous news that Chris would have to find a new awesome home to live in. The very last day was April 30, and on that day, after having scared off tons of people, the Idahoan transplants Joe and Gary came to interview. Joe shared our views on animals, which is a good indicator he shares our views on people too. He was able to look past Roscoes faults and observed his gentler nature that comes with time and familiarity. So, Im out a few hundred dollars but at least I live with cool people. I'm not sure if happiness is derived from quantity of money or quality of friends but I guess I'll find out.
Personal
The best driving road I know of is the Pacific Coast Highway. This road has sections that run precariously along cliffs and over short yet immensely deep chasms. A bridge the length of a basketball court might be hundreds of feet from the bottom. There is even a ridge just south of the coastal town of Pacifica that is known as "Devil's Slide" for its dangerous positioning. This part of the PCH runs around the ocean face of a mountain. The view is spectacular as the elevation give the traveller a tall perspective on the ocean and the setting sun, but the traveller would be well advised to focus on the road. Just a few feet from the edge of the road there is no land, only a steep descent into the jagged and unforgiving northern california coast that has, year and again, claimed the lives of wreckless drivers.
My most memorable experience on this road happened to me the year before I left for college. I was on my way to meet my friends camping at Big Sur, and on my way I encoutered a heavy fog that is characteristic of a lot of coastal areas. I was in a Jeep Wrangler that had no top or windows, which was just as well because the windsheild became quickly obscured by fog forcing me to drive with my head out out the vehicle, like a dog. This is generally dangerous, as mentioned before there are scary cliffs on this road, and unadvisable but I admit that it was fun. The reason many people own convertibles, motorcycles and wrangles is to avoid the secure comfort provided by cars, or "cages" as they are known in certain circles. At one point in this heavy fog the magical PCH ascended to a point just above the heavy fog, and I reached this point just as the sun was setting. I was late and off schedule, and rewarded for it by an ocean of pink cotton candy clouds laid out and extending forever under a clear, empty sky. It looked like the inspiration for a cloud level of Super Mario. It was one of those strange and life affirming scenes that challenge the observer to seek out more of life's little easter eggs, although it might be the type of experience that actively eludes the pursuer.