Holy Crap, Part 2

If you didn’t read last Sunday’s post, you might want to do so before embarking on this one or you’ll wonder what’s up. Don’t worry, I’ll wait while you do. (Click on Holy Crap.) Okay, ready?

It's story time

When I last left you, Loretta and I emerged from the marsh only to find 4 policemen with their guns drawn. Here’s the thing. I may have slightly misled you into believing we were the subjects of their intended apprehension. But that, my friends, is what you call a cliffhanger. Now don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t lying to you; their guns were just pointed in a different direction from us.

I bet you think it’s the guy with the rifle. So did we. But no. It was a man a few yards from us. What had he done to instigate police action? Who knows. But he ignored their command to put his hands on the hood of his car, which is just plain stupid. I was expecting to hear gunshots, but he finally complied and was handcuffed.

arrested 2

On with the pup pursuit! Continue reading

Holy Crap

Holy crap doesn’t begin to describe the day we had last week.

Actually, how it all started may have been an omen. Loretta and I were driving to Mare Island to trap Spot, the last of many feral cats we relocated from under a condemned building, when we heard a strange sound. Seems a screw was embedded in my tire. Now don’t get me wrong; that didn’t stop us.

mare island overhead view

Mare Island

Don’t worry, we reached our destination without a flat and quickly caught Spot, who’ll be happy to join his buddies at their new outdoor home. black cat spotSpot’s feeder monitored the trap while we headed elsewhere on the island to check on other ferals. So far so good. That all changed when Loretta’s eagle eyes spotted some distressed dogs in front of one of the island’s many abandoned military buildings. Continue reading

In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Here’s to you Dad…There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed. But it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves. Continue reading

What Baffles Me

I may as well confess there are many things that baffle me. You’d think at this stage of the game I’d have it all figured out, right? But actually, it’s the opposite; age has not lessened my bafflement.

For instance, I was cruising down the freeway recently, in the slow lane for once in my life, when I heard honking in the lane to my left. Since there wasn’t traffic and we were all going the speed limit, I wondered why this person was laying on the horn. Not just a toot toot but a continual blast that lasted seconds.

I was in my SUV with our Marin Friends of Ferals placard on the door, our MFFCATS license plate and a window banner that says marinferals.org. So naturally I figured it was a fan of ours honking approval of what we do.

As the young man sailed past in his sports car, he lifted his arm, pointed his hand toward me, then flipped me the bird. I was shocked. I’ve never been flipped off before — a pretty good track record for an almost 67-year-old, don’t you think? Anyway, I chalked it up to him being a cat hater. But still, it was baffling.


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Lucky Me

I’m sitting here writing next to my best friend of late. My best friend being a box of Kleenex. My third box, to be exact. Nearly 195 supposedly ultra soft facial tissues have been my constant companion since I contracted Covid 2 1/2 weeks ago.

I guess I’m officially an old lady now since a sure sign is when one stuffs a Kleenex up a sleeve or keeps it within reach in the car. I always wondered why that was. Do old ladies get runny noses more often than young ones? Perhaps. But in my defense, I plan to go back to being Kleenex-free once this awful illness decides to leave my body.

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