Category Archives: Musings

weekly column of general observations

Don’t Mess With Me

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sweet quote

I have a lot of people fooled because many are under the assumption I’m a sweet and kind person who probably doesn’t swear or even gossip. Boy are those people mistaken. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I’m a total bitch or anything, although I know some who disagree. You’ll meet them later.

I think I’m a decent human being. But if you continually aggravate me, all bets are off. And swearing? If you were a fly stuck in my car, you’d raise your eyebrows (if flies had eyebrows) with what emerges from these thin lips of mine as I rant over perceived inept drivers.

fly

Let me out! This woman is crazy

And gossip? Guilty as charged. To demonstrate, I’ll quote a line from the movie, Steel Magnolias…

gossip quote

Yes friends, I admit I love me some juicy gossip.

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One Precious Second

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I almost died Wednesday night.

To put it more succinctly, someone almost killed me. I’d call it murder but I suppose in a court of law it would constitute manslaughter. None-the-less, I might be dead if it weren’t for a red Fiat and one precious second.

please tell me more

I was checking emails at 7:30 p.m. when I received notice saying some bozo had stolen one of our feral cat feeding stations and food bowls. The cats also needed more food. So I grabbed the pertinent items and headed out for the 10 minute drive up the freeway…until I realized I’d forgotten the feeding station. Typical me. So I headed back to my garage where the station was sitting in plain sight. Impossible for me to miss although somehow I’d managed.

forgotten something

Once I entered the freeway, a red 2-seater Fiat convertible flew past me. The top was down and 3 young gals were squeezed in, one obviously without a seat belt. Or a seat. Surprisingly, a police cruiser drove right by them. Must have been quittin’ time because 3 long-haired blonds speeding in a convertible are kinda hard to miss.

fiat

Insert 3 crazy gals

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To the Rescue

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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 dognapping 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 my 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 locked in a cage in a basement with no 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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Call Me Stupid

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Now that the pup pursuit is over, Gracie and Brownie are living the good life with Toni.

Brownie and Gracie

Brownie and Gracie recuperating at Toni’s

Toni holding Brownie

Toni with Brownie

So this is a good time to tell you the stupid things I did while trying to trap Gracie. Toni and Loretta were unavailable that particular night so I decided to go out alone. That was my first stupid move.stupid

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What Baffles Me

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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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