As I write this, Paco is probably perched on his travel platform in Joe's red truck as they head west on their move to Oregon. I can see him sleeping for a while, looking out the window for a while, chewing on his toys for a while, and getting antsy enough for Joe to have to stop so he can sniff around, find his potty spot, and munch on some grass.
(Unexpectedly delayed by some 10 days because of a truck malfunction and incompetent mechanics who never really got the problem fixed, the two of them now have to "hightail" it across the country to arrive in time for Joe to get to his appointment with the surgeon who will fix his bummed-up knee. It's not the sort of deadline one wants to drive thousands of miles to meet, but Joe's got to get a knee repair before he can find a living space, get unpacked, find Paco a doggie park, and begin preparing for a new job in September.)
The afternoon before they took off, Paco and Joe were at the farm. Mac and Paco romped, ran, chewed at each other, and barked enough to annoy the neighbors, I'm sure.
In a tribute to the bassett hound with so many profoundly funny, serious, and quizical expressions, I post these pics of Paco. I miss him sorely (as I miss Joe), and I'm sure Mac does moreso than I.
(Loonis and the other felines, however, have not expressed similar sentiments. They're happy not to have a bassett nose in their face when they try to eat, and Cato does not miss Paco's incessant barking right in his face. In reality, I do think they miss his goofiness and good spirit, for when push came to shove, Paco was their friend.)
Cheers, Paco ! Stay cool and mellow!