There was a court case in San Diego recently, in which a man was convicted of shaking and choking his girlfriend's Chihuahua. The dog had to be euthanized.

The guy that did this -- Fernando.

The dog -- Roscoe.

I can understand people getting upset with little yappy dogs, but once you start getting physical with animals, they should put you down. And yeah, now that my doggy got his haircut and looks more like a Chihuahua than a Maltese, I'm even more sensitive to a story like this.

I took him walking the other day around Hickman Elementary School in Mira Mesa, the place I went when I was a kid.

I couldn't believe how much looked the same. And looking at the tiny drinking fountains, wondering if I was ever that small.

I saw about 25 coats and shirts on a hangar outside near an office with a sign that said "Lost and Found." I'm guessing the office got sick of kids coming in and this was easier.

I remember losing a Members Only jacket I had, and my mom going nuts over that. The worst part is I hated the jacket, and in a weird way, was glad I lost it. The jacket I had before that was a green windbreaker which I loved. Until a girl named Heather, who was usually quiet and nice, said that my jacket was probably green from me blowing snot all over it. All the kids laughed. I cried. And when I finished crying, I no longer liked that jacket.

I walked by the area where we used to play dodge ball. When we got a new principal that always felt like getting involved in our games, he had his glasses knocked off by Patrick, a big, red-haired Irish kid that we were all afraid of. The next day, dodge ball was eliminated as a game we could play. And I wondered if our principal was also afraid of Patrick.

I saw the bars where I broke my arm in 5th grade, near the end of the school year.

I would break my arm near the end of 6th grade, which had my classmates speculating what I'd break in junior high .

The bars were a lot different. They didn't have the three rings you tried to climb thru, or that big square thing you climbed all over. No uneven parallel bars, that probably broke other arms across this great land. These looked like a swing set you'd see in someones backyard, not in a school playground.

The grass field was still there. I remember a kid named Brian Cook was blocking me during a football game. His arm slipped and he got me in the face, snapping my glasses in half.

I remember playing a baseball game there on a weekend. We didn't want to use the backstops, because we hated playing in the sand.

My friend Dave, who thought he was Tom Seaver, would stand there for five minutes before throwing a pitch. We'd all yell at him. One time he stood there, doing all the motions that pro baseball players do on the mound. And, a bee stung him on the hand. He dropped the ball, and started jumping around and screaming, with his baseball glove flying into the air. We fell to the ground laughing.

I remembered Brians dad had a custom painted van that said "After Midnight." It was in car shows a few times, and we thought it was the coolest thing on the road.

I walked up the basketball courts, where I first learned to play in 4th grade. I remember a Filippino kid named Mendel Sangolang, that was a year older than I. We played after school one day and he went around his back with the ball on a layup, and I was blown away. It would take me a year of practice before I got that down.

The rims weren't regulation. What elementary school kid could make baskets on a 10-foot high hoop? I think I could've dunked on these things.

I remember a girlfriend I had in 6th grade named Nikki. She'd watch me play ball after school. One day she went with Leo behind the bushes. I was involved in the game, but I saw them walk around a corner of the building. After the game I went to have a look. They were making out and giggling. End of that relationship (at one of our high school reunions, I saw she was living in Arizona and divorced; those two things made me happy).

As we walked thru the parking lot, I glanced back over at the school. I saw the bushes where a few of the bad kids would hang out. I remember a guy named Larry would smoke pot there. We were in 4th grade, and it was the first time I had ever smelled it, billowing out from behind the bushes.

He ended up being voted one of the most talented in our high school. He could sing, had the leads in all the school plays, and when my girlfriend (a Miss Mira Mesa), was in the play Grease, she ended up cheating on me with him. Looking back, who could blame her. He was Danny Zucko. I was a kid writing for the school newspaper and playing on the basketball team. Which was more exciting?

When they broke up, she tried getting me back. I was already dating someone else. The guys on my basketball team thought it was insane that I wouldn't want to get back together with this girl that would sit in the bleachers during our practices, and call my name as we headed to the locker room.

A few of them had made fun of me for liking rock n' roll. A few of them made fun of me for always trying to play flashy, like Magic Johnson or Pete Maravich. It often meant me throwing a bad pass, and my coach making me run laps. But having her in the stands, trying to get me to go out with her, garnered me respect with my teammates.

I wondered how many people actually go back to their old schools.

And as I glanced down and noticed my dog doing his business, I quickly grabbed one of my plastic bags.

And I thought about Nikki and Kristi one last time.