In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

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Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Happy Father’s Day! 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.

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To the Rescue!

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If I told you about the week I had, you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s why I’m re-posting this blog from 2022 since I had limited time this week. So grab a cup of coffee, sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy this post.

What I’m about to tell you is just between us. Loose lips not only sink ships, they can also land me in the slammer. The problem with that? I doubt jail caters to vegetarians and I’m guessing their sleeping arrangements aren’t as comfy as my king size Sleep Number bed with pillow-top padding.

Jail food

Since you’re finished reading about our dog rescue on Mare Island, I figure this is a good time to tell you about another canine rescue I was part of. Some might call it a dog-napping and they wouldn’t be incorrect. But I prefer to label it as a life or death rescue intervention.

Here’s what happened: One of our feral cat caretakers (who we’ll refer to as Shannon) was told by her daughter (let’s call her Kelly) about a dog she discovered living out of state with a past friend of hers. The dog was locked in a cage in a basement with little food or water. Pretty cruel, huh? The dog was horribly malnourished and basically ignored by her so-called guardian, a drug addict who we’ll call The Neglector.

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How To Be A Squeaky Wheel

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I rarely pass up the opportunity to gripe about companies that irritate me when I already deal with enough irritations on a daily basis. For instance, take my cat, Skye, who vomited her entire meal onto the kitchen nook seating; she couldn’t do it on the kitchen tile like a considerate cat would, but apparently that never crossed her mind.

The culprit

Anyway, to begin my griping, I’ve had DirecTV for over 30 years. I’m too lazy to leave my desk to confirm that number, but it’s been mucho years. During those mucho years, I’ve only called DirecTV a handful of times. In other words, I’d say I’m an ideal customer.

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Oh Happy Day! Or Is It?

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Still playing catch up from my trip, so here’s a posting for 2017 that, sadly, is still relevant today.

I think you all know how much I’ve struggled with house training my one-year-old Dachshund mix, Wally. He’s either the most stubborn dog this side of New York or not a very bright canine. I’d say maybe both.

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After his first bath

My friend Patty adopted a Dachshund mix a day before I took home Wally last summer. Unlike me, she has a history with the breed and wanted a companion for her full-on Dachshund, Jimmy Dean.

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Jimmy Dean

Enter Ali. Hard as it is to believe, Ali is even cuter than Wally. But Patty’s pup has the same issues as Wally. Yippee!

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Ali
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My So-Called IQ Test

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So, one day a couple of months ago, I became antsy reading a ton of emails from those wanting help trapping a feral cat, wanting a feral cat, or needing their feral cat sterilized…just my usual morning in cat rescue.

I then decided to take a detour to focus on something else, something a little more, shall I say, entertaining. If you’ve seen the movie, Pretty Woman, starring Julia Roberts, you probably recall the line she said to the saleswoman who refused to help her buy a new wardrobe, and I quote:

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