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A {very} Dashing Dog

The whole of Seattle has been eagerly anticipating today’s arrival.  Since Wednesday, the headline news has been the upcoming weather forecast for the weekend:  Sunny, cloudless & 77 degrees.  It was billed as being the first time we’d felt seventy degrees in like 277 days, or something like that.  A {very} l o n g  time, whatever the actual number.  We’ve all been positively *buzzing* about this miracle of sunshiny goodness that was supposed to be pouring down on us all weekend.  Well, as it happens, those lovely weather folks were {absolutely} right.

At 5:30 am the sun was streaming in my bedroom window, & cooing seductively at me to come out to play.  I didn’t need any other encouragement to hop out of bed.  Especially since I had a hot {breakfast} date with Cooper lined up in a couple of hours.  For context I should probably mention that Cooper is a dog.  And Cooper, let me tell you, is as handsome as all get out.  Cooper’s Handler was coming along too, just to keep an eye on things.   Cooper is, after all, a dog without borders.

 Given that the weather was simply gorgeous & this was the weekend after Memorial Day, there was not one jot of confusion in my mind while I was in my closet this morning: white cargo pants, floaty top & sandals.  I’d already had a pedicure, courtesy of those wonderful folks over at Mode Salon.  Summer in Seattle, here we come!

The drive down to Lower Queen Anne was just glorious.  As I zoomed towards Mercer Island & I caught sight of the Olympic Mountains in the distance, the thought occurred to me that I might just keep on driving, hop on the ferry and go hang out on Hurricane Ridge instead.  That thought lasted about 4 seconds; because that would mean missing breakfast with Cooper & I sure as heck wasn’t going to do that.  So I got off the I5 & headed towards Seattle Center.  Driving in downtown Seattle on a day like today makes my heart sing.  The Space Needle sparkled against the deep blue sky.  I swear Seattle is the best place on earth when the sun is shining.

I found The Mecca easily enough, and given that I rolled up at 7:45 am there were parking spots galore right outside the door.  Turns out it’s a darn good job that Cooper’s Handler came with, since I embarrassingly discovered that I had left my wallet at home.  I have never forgotten my wallet *IN MY LIFE*.  Apparently, having breakfast with a {very} dashing dog is enough to turn a girl into a space cadet.  Cooper’s Handler came to the rescue (Cooper doesn’t carry cash) & conjured up the required parking sticker for me.  Thank you!!

Cooper reviewing the menu at The Mecca.  Lots & lots of greasy goodness.

 Cooper’s Handler had warned me in advance that The Mecca was a cross between a greasy spoon & a dive bar.  Their motto is “Alcoholics serving alcoholics since 1929”.  I read up on the reviews and found that people are pretty bi-polar about The Mecca: either they think it’s the best thing since sliced bread or they think it should have a food protection order issued against it.  No grey when it comes to how people feel about this place.  But you know me, I’m always up for an adventure & will try {just about} anything once.  Plus eating in the odd greasy spoon keeps me grounded.  And with Cooper there to protect me, what could possibly go wrong?

 This is the point at which I realize that having breakfast with a {very} dashing dog turns a girl into a space cadet for an extended period of time.  The Mecca has no website.  I knew that before I went.  And yet I forgot to write down all the details from the menu, darn it.

As I recall, Cooper downed a #7 – something about lots of lumps of meaty protein, (Cooper prefers sausage), eggs, ‘browns & toast.  And around $7.  Or maybe $10.  Somewhere in there.

I didn’t actually ask Cooper if he enjoyed his nosh, but I do know that he’s a regular at The Mecca so I am guessing he liked it.  The Mecca, I’ve heard, is all a bit random, so sometimes it is better than others.  Cooper gave today’s offering a 7 / 10.

I was in need of about 3 lbs of protein by this point so I decided on the Salmon Saute which is a huge old omelet filled with half a salmon, half a pound of cream cheese and various other bits & pieces, plus ‘browns and an English muffin, all for $13.49 (or something like that). 

 Now, you all know this girl can eat.  Well, I’m tellin’ ya, that omelet was enormous & the ‘browns & muffin went entirely untouched.  That omelet was also really good.  I would eat that again, any day of the week.

The staff were fine.  The reviews reveal horror stories about rude, obnoxious bartenders & surly, sassy, servers, but they were just fine today.  Maybe the sunshine was helping make everyone feel all warm & fuzzy.

As far as I am concerned The Mecca was greasy spoon food at its finest.

Cooper and I nattered on about our various travel plans (Cooper writes travel guides) for the rest of the year.  I have more trips pending, but Cooper’s are more exotic.  Man, does that puppy love to travel!  Christmas in Thailand??  Lucky dog.  Cooper has a friend there.  Apparently Thailand is THE best place to get a great paw rub.  I’d just want to eat.  Remember my first Thai food experience back in December?  Yeah.  Thailand sounds good to me, with or without paw rubs.

We traded stories on past adventures – white knuckle rides through raging blizzards, driving off cliffs & sailing the straits of Juan de Fuca in wild storms.  We even swapped notes on crazy family members.  I confessed that I have never seen Star Wars, can’t swim & have 6 cats.  Even Cooper got a tad wide-eyed at the last one, although I secretly think he was more shocked about the Star Wars thing.

Alas, it was all over far too quickly.  Cooper had a boat to sail & I had bags to pack.

Next time you’re in Lower Queen Anne and are in need of some greasy spoon sustenance, head on over to The Mecca.  I’ve heard the Corn Beef Hash is extraordinary.  I’ve also heard The Mecca is the best place to cure a hangover.  I can’t vouch for that, but I can certainly vouch for a darn fine omelet & lighting dim enough to not make your headache worse.

Now, off out into that glorious sunshine.  Happy, happy Saturday!

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