LBJ was almost taken away with the dirty dishes in Amsterdam and left behind at a restaurant in Helsinki. But neither of those experiences prepared him for his brush with death in Mexico.
While Wes and I were introducing LBJ to the beach at Cabo San Lucas, a rogue wave reached up out of the Sea of Cortez and grabbed the little feller, sucking him out to sea. It was only with quick thinking and derring do that Wes charged into the surf to pluck our little president out of peril. Sadly, Wes suffered a cut on one of his paws that served as an excuse to stay close to the pool (and the tequila) for much of the rest of the trip.
I’ve uploaded several new photos to the LBJ gallery that document his adventures in Mexico, but I forgot to include this one, which is one of my favorites. I’ll add it later. The new stuff in the gallery is toward the bottom of this page.
The time is coming when LBJ must return from whence he came. But how?