Rocky Mountain High-jinks
- Tom Piper
- 6 hours ago
- 5 min read
We have visited Colorado many times over the years. But that was before, back when we were merely tourists. On our most recent visit, it was as parents. Our oldest son Alex and his wife Steph moved to Denver recently; hence our responsibilities with respect to the Rockies have changed. It's not about us anymore. We have to look after our grand cats when the parents are away.
Buxton & Lando are brothers, and a tad spoiled in the way that pets tend to be when they belong to a couple before they have had human-style children, after which time pets and husbands become nearly forgotten. But for now, the boys need cat sitters, preferably the unpaid grand parent variety.
Well, they don't strictly need it because they do fine on their own equipped as they are with an automatic feeder, a circulating water bowl and a self-cleaning litter box that looks like it could audition as a droid in Star Wars. But they are also goofy orange boy cats and they really appreciate having someone around whom they can try to persuade that there has been some terrible misunderstanding regarding the feeding instructions, particularly as it pertains to frequency and quantity.
And I'm an easy mark. I wanted to feed them all the time, despite the strict instructions only to do so twice per day.
Question: Is one allowed to spoil pets behind the parents' backs the way you are allowed to do with grandchildren when they want ice cream? Feels like yes, right? Problem was even though the automatic feeder was "offline" (Buxton still kept a weather eye on it just in case it suddenly sparked to life) the little camera in it was not offline and was relaying live images back to the owner's phone. So it seemed like I might be discovered if I broke calorie protocol. I suppose I could have knocked out the internet in a few block radius with a "pinch" like in Oceans 11, but Alex would have probably figured out what I was up to as he has seen that movie too. So sorry Buxton.
Living in Denver again was a little homecoming for me as I was re-located there a thousand years ago for a work thing after college. Back then, downtown Denver was a ghost town. After 6PM, you could lay down in a major downtown intersection and not get hit by a car for 5 or 10 minutes. And like many cities at the time, the urban neighborhoods were simply no-fly zones. Urban blight. Drugs. Scary dogs. Danger.
No more. It's gentrification on steroids. They live in a neighborhood called Lower Highlands (love the oxymoron). The streets are lined with adorable little houses like this Craftsman Bungalow shown below, leafy sidewalks, delightful bars and cafes, and more yoga studios than you can shake a green tea latte at. Also, there are no old people. There aren't even middle-aged people. The only people you see are between 25 - 35 and they are very fit and very attractive (they do a lot of yoga it seems). So Lori and I fit right in to this little urban Eden.
People in Denver are super friendly. It's all that sunshine, outdoorsy vibes and probably the oxygen deficit at such altitude. They even ask the alien-like old people they encounter "where are you from?" (because obviously not there). The previous cat sitters (Steph's parents) had made one of the local bakeries their regular morning haunt and had managed to get on a first-name basis with the staff. Seeking to best this, we boldly set out to meet the locals. Only, without really meaning to, our notoriety came at the Highland Tap, one of the local watering holes, instead of a bakery. But that's only because we are trying to cut back on baked goods from four times per day to two times per day (like the cats). And at least two of our seventeen visits to the Highland Tap was so that Lori could go back for this tasty summer salad:
We can wholeheartedly recommend the Highlands (and the Highlands Tap), the Lower Highlands and the Mid Highlands neighborhoods should your travels take you to Denver in the near future. I found it to be preferable to downtown as a base. But you will have to feed the cats.
After Alex returned to Denver (the boys were excited), he let us use his guest passes at their local gym. But "gym" isn't really the right term. A gym is what we have back in Burlington—a tired place with indifferent staff, dank locker rooms, medicine balls and a sweaty smelling weight room full of ordinary looking human beings. Alex and Steph's gym, Traverse, is more of a wellness acceleration spa populated by fitness models. Here you have co-working space, gender-neutral dressing areas, massage chairs, cold-plunges, hot yoga and positive vibes. And the staff, well I consider them to be more like family. Of course, our gym membership back in Burlington used to be about $75 a month. I think it's about $75 per hour (billed monthly) at Traverse. But I will tell you this: at the end of my hot yoga class (during shavasana), the instructor brought me a chilled (yes, chilled) hand-towel soaked in Eucalyptus oil. Game changer. Money is no object for that kind of wellness. Luckily, we failed the maximum age section of the application, so we don't have to sell our house.
Alex took a few days off so we could drive up to the mountains in their electric car, cleverly bypassing the Trump Tax on fossil fuels. We stayed three days in Salida which is a well-preserved mining town with the Arkansas river flowing through it, creating a town-wide swimming hole and a little fly fishing mecca. Here I am perusing a Reptile Dysfunction fly in the fly shop whilst drinking a tasty IPA, because they have a bar in the fly shop. Of course they do. Maybe I should get into fishing?
Sadly, we had to leave town just before this tribute act hit the stage at the Steam Plant. I do love me some John Denver. But I would have paid to see this guy for the wig alone. I mean look at that do! Absolutely far out as the late great JD would say.
But cat sitting, fly-fishing and JD tributes aside, the real reason we traveled to the Rocky Mountain State was to see Alex's frisbee match.
Fun fact: Alex is a professional frisbee player. For real. He plays for the Colorado Apex Ultimate Frisbee team. I know it's professional because they charge you to get into the games. They even have a band. I think the team pays him a 'stipend' which is like money only much less. But as he says, they pick up uniforms, plane flights, hotels, etc. which is a big step up, financially at least, from club Frisbee.
Here's the terrific video introduction Alex received at Marv Kay Stadium in Golden that night:
The young frisbee hopefuls line up for autographs after the game (see my eBay page for signed merch and unis!)
Did they win? No, they did not. But it's not about winning or losing, it's about the love of the game and ha, ha. I'm kidding of course. It's about the individual stats and Alex scored 4 times, including one layout toe tapper in the end zone. So he'll probably be able to sign with the LA Dodgers of Ultimate for a much bigger 'stipend' next year.
Maybe then they will be able to afford to feed those cats more.
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