As soon as Rick and I got an apartment, Satch was back with us. Spending days at the beach, hanging with the surfers, boogie boarding and the like. One day he and I were walking around Gray Whale Ranch at the top of this hill and Satch saw a skunk. He chased it to the edge of the cliff where the skunk cruised underneath the overhang into a hole. Satch, having no concept of hills and being from Florida, kept going and launched over the cliff. He was airborne for about three seconds then hit a tree limb which bent back and down then flung him up into the air. He landed in the dense underbrush below. I ran down the hill, expecting to see a broken dog, but instead he ran up to me, wagging his tail. It was here he earned the name Air Satch.
He loved Santa Cruz and was a regular at Paul's and the Catalyst. He also worked for the Santa Cruz Sentinel as a newspaper dog overseeing the distribution of morning papers. He worked with about thirty kids ages 14 to 17 sitting in the back of the Sentinel van while I drove around training them to throw papers. While in Santa Cruz, these children fed him many oysters by hacking up spewtum and spitting it in his mouth. His dogged determination to "get the job done" earned him accolades from the Sentinel and he was promoted to "Dog in Charge". He ran event days for the kids and their parents. He went with them on nights when they sold subscriptions.
But his true love was for the beach. We lived for a while on Bay Street only a few blocks from Its Beach and Steamer Lane. Some days, when I went to work, he would jump the stone wall in our back yard and go down to the ocean. He spent several summers lounging around in the sand, flirting with women and dogs, and staring at seals. Life was good in Santa Cruz.