Satch's truest love is eating. Whether in the bar or restaurant or at the trusty dog bowl in our kitchen, it is his highest calling. After his pancreatic episode he has been forced to eat his hippie stew, (or Satch Batch), along with Science Diet for Seniors and Iams Less Active Formula snacky bones to maintain his health and svelte figure. Throughout this all, he has maintained his keen sense of dining and love for the finer cuisine life has to offer.

In his glory days, he was king of the heap, following every craze that came down the pipeline, from the great Pig Ear flood to the Arch Deluxe phenomenon. In his younger days, he and I would watch Jeopardy and every time Alex Travek would mention "Meaty Bone, the Taste Dog's Love", he'd get a bone.

An aficionado of various butcher stores in the many place we have lived, Satchmo became a regular customer for "knuckles", "soup bones" and other "innards". He never liked beer, even when he was a child, though he has had psychedelic mushrooms (once) which stayed with him for several months. He has, at times, drank Tequila, but he prefers the mescal over the refined Jose Cuervo crap. Satch recently has began a program of medicinal cannabis to help him with the onset of his arthritis. One time we had an Alice in Wonderland party and baked up some wonder brownies which Satch got into and flew for a week.

His object of true desire, food, is obtained mostly by his keen skill and begging ability. In Berkeley, my roommate Dan used to take Satch up to Amoeba on Telegraph Avenue. One day the street was extremely hectic with homeless and assorted nuts roaming, so Dan asked the girl at the door if Satch could come in. She said, "Oh sure, he's so cute. Can he have some treats?" Amoeba immediately became Satch's favorite record store.

In a perfect world, Satchmo would be king and every restaurant would have a dogs only section, much like the Hotel Utah in San Francisco where he is shown here having a drink with the Dougie Fresh, Jason and Norm aka Satan. A fine time was had by all.

One time he and his friend Willie were at the Berkeley house and I got tired of them following me around everywhere so I pulled out an entire block of cheddar cheese and held it up to them saying, "Food. Do you want the food?" and proceeded to split it between the two of them . When they see each other still today, they wonder about "The Cheddar Incident" as they refer to it now, and rack their small dog brains for the reason, why it happened that night and how they could ever create the same exact conditions so that it could happen again.

From chewy sticks to rawhides, John Bobbits to garbage. This is Satchmo's true life affirmation which he pursues with exhilarating passion every day. The way to this dog's heart is through his stomach.

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