About 6 months ago, a woman and her daughter sent me a video of a long-haired tabby racing through the parking lot of Target late one night. The daughter captured him on her iPhone while her mom yelled, “Film him before he runs away! Hurry, don’t miss him!” Followed by, “I KNOW Mom! I’m getting him!”
When Target closes at 9:00 p.m., cats emerge from the marshland that hugs the store on 2 sides, the bay on the other. Shoppers sometimes leave them food, some contact us (Marin Friends of Ferals) and some, I assume, simply look away.
Target isn’t located near homes so these are feral cats or possibly lost or dumped domestics. So my awesome volunteer, Holly, and I placed a feeding station under a bush off the parking lot, locked a motion sensor camera to it, and started feeding.
This post was one of the first I wrote 10 years ago, so long ago you don’t remember it, do you? That’s okay. My memory sucks too. So this will be just like new to you (and me!).
While my three friends and I huddled on the cold steel floor of the single engine Cessna, I struggled to remember what possessed me to want to hurl myself from an airborne metal tube.
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not crazy. At least I think I’m not. But still, I seriously questioned my sanity while checking my parachute pack for the tenth time. My curiosity was not based on its technical construction but simply to confirm that it was still on my back. Continue reading →
To refresh your memory, my friend Kate’s brother, John, has dementia. He lives at a retirement community where another resident, Bernice, aka The Vulture, is after his life savings.
Bernice, we suspect, is a career elder abuse criminal who latches onto lonely, wealthy gentlemen to bilk them from their riches before finding her next victim. In other words, she’s a real gem.
Last week Kate took Bernice to court. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t let her go alone. I accompanied her for moral support but also to leer at this despicable human being. But since I’m not adept at leering, I decided to first practice in my bathroom mirror. I attempted to look disgusted while conveying a demeanor of, hey lady, you better back off or you’ll regret it. Which conveys that to you?
For 7 years, our Marin Friends of Ferals volunteers have fed an orange cat (OC) living behind a theater in Novato. He was originally part of a sterilized feral cat colony across the freeway so we trapped and returned him, but he headed back to the theater. That OC is an independent fellow.
A couple months ago, the visiting CEO discovered our feeding station and demanded we promptly remove it, along with OC. Sadly, just like The Grinch, his heart is two sizes too small. When we ignored his demand, he had his employees throw away our feeding station. So we put out another. It, too, disappeared. Rinse and repeat.
This blog was originally posted in October, 2016. I’m sure you don’t remember it, so enjoy!
I promise this will be my last Wally blog entry for a while. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t return him to the humane society. I’m not that cold-hearted. Frankly I’m surprised the idea even crossed your mind because it’s never crossed mine. But let me tell ya, I’m beginning to think Wally’s previous owner neglected to divulge some of the Wallster’s less desirable behaviors.
Caught in the act
As you read last Sunday, Wally is challenged in a few areas: peeing and pooping in the house, not coming when called, chewing anything he can fit into his mouth, barking at strangers, car sickness, fear of rain, stealing food from my plate…
Wally’s previous owner returned him saying his car sickness was a deal breaker since he planned to take Wally to work with him. To that I say phooey! And I never say phooey. My guess is he couldn’t handle the truth — Wally isn’t easy. These days I keep reminding myself nothing worthwhile ever is. Continue reading →