The Prince

July 19^th, 2012

Ace existed before he was born. During the last year of the restaurant, before moving permanently to Mexico, Joseph would introduce his imaginary dog to our dinner guests. He would pet the head of his imaginary dog and would say—meet my dog Ace—
I had accepted the idea of having a dog because I knew how much Joseph wanted a dog. Caring for a pet on a large piece of front beach property was the ideal situation. No city regulations to comply with, just miles of total freedom. Having a dog in our Mexican home proved to be labor-free. I never was a dog lover but Ace changed that. He became my friend.

I looked through the glass door and I could see Ace sleeping peacefully. I continued with the exercise routine I do every morning with Joseph, inside our cool bedroom. Ace knows the program well; he has been listening to it for 12 years.  He is waiting for us to finish our short physical fitness program. At the end, Joseph will take him for a walk on the beach along with Jack, our nine month old boxer. Just about at the end of the cassette he is up and about, ready to go.
 "Ace is laying unusually still, please check on him," I said to Joseph. As I opened the door I knew what was coming. "He is dead," Joseph said as he touched his pretty slim face. He had lost some weight in the last few weeks and in spite of my efforts to prepare special meals for him, his appetite was not good. We knew the end was near but I was not prepared for letting him go, just yet. He was a graceful animal. We called him
The Prince.

Ace lived his entire life in Playa Blanca, a place that most of us refer to as “Paradise”.
His footprints are still in the sand.