Suzy Says

Well, I didn’t let the Bad Day get me down. Not completely, anyway.

On Friday night, we had a BBQ at the property with my siblings’ land partners, Jennifer and Dave* and our dear friend Lu, who brought her dogs Marco and Harlow, who is Star’s BFF. Marco has suddenly gone blind, so it was a challenge keeping him away from the fire, etc. When you have a 137 pound blind dog on your hands, everything suddenly looks like an obstacle course. He is coping pretty well, but at 6 years old, he is getting on in age for a Rottweiler and is also having a hard time with one of his back legs.

I think it was good for Lu to get out of the house and be with friends for a little while. As it was for me. We all toasted Mom and shared some memories. We all agreed that while our parents and their parenting style was somewhat unusual, we were lucky to have had them. And to have each other.

By the way: Roscoe is doing much better. I have stopped squirting him, and his skin is returning to its normal whiteness, with just a little bit of scabbiness. I hope the fur grows back – he looks a little odd with a bald spot. I guess I will never know what happened…a kitty mystery!

*I stopped in at the store after going to the post office, where I learned that Dave and Jennifer were here for two weeks with their three horses (I thought they only had two), and that my new neighbors had invisibly moved into Mark’s house. Good thing the store is there to tell me what’s going on in my life.

There’s nothing like an unwanted trip looming on the horizon to make you appreciate your humble abode. Leaving all my doors open when I go to work! Driving to work beside the ocean! Having the adorable Digit (and my awesome co-workers) at work when I get there:

My beautiful, peaceful garden! My naughty kitties! It all seems like a paradise now.

As I set about packing today, I kept thinking about how much I would miss the kitties, the garden, and my hippie hovel. Not to mention the silence and the safety. I would venture to guess that Detroit is the utter antithesis of Hooterville.

The cats ignored the signs of my imminent departure and played outside under the big blue sky in the clean fresh air. It was about 70 degrees today, and I had all the doors open. Roscoe took advantage of this to import as many lizards as possible. He even went behind the pots and bowls in the kitchen cupboard, emerged with a lizard, played with it a while while I went to get the broom and dustpan to aid in lizard removal, and then vanished with it under the couch.

Under the couch appears to be the favored reptile repository around here. I figure by the time I get back from The D, they will have completely taken over, sitting on the couch reading and smoking a cigar and raiding the liquor cabinet*. They will look at me in disdain and wonder what on earth I’m doing in their house.

I took a much-needed break from stewing and fretting yesterday to have a Q with family and friends. Erica and Jessica were there with the Lovely Lucy:

as were Lichen and my siblings’ land partners, Dave and Jennifer. Megan had marinated a pork roast, which was slow cooked over the barbecue for hours. We made that into fajitas with grilled onions and peppers, as well as salad just picked from the garden and a cherry pie my brother made from scratch. As if that weren’t enough, we also had grilled fresh peaches, yet another delicious Erica innovation. You split a fresh peach, take out the pit, brush it with olive oil, dust it with salt, and put it on the barbecue for 5 to 7 minutes. Delicious!

Is it any wonder I’ll be homesick?

*Which is itself without a door, having detached itself from its hinges while I was at work last week. Mark and his family are in Florida at Disney Land (or Disney World), and when they get back, they are almost immediately moving to New Jersey for a year, so I’m not expecting it to be fixed any time soon. Oh, Rob….what are you up to in the next few days?

I realize it’s almost this weekend, and I haven’t told you about last weekend yet. Let’s look back, back…a long time ago, about last Friday.

It was the first farmers’ market of the year, and it was a beautiful, sunny day. The market was less crowded than it will be when summer really begins, and it was nice to wander about in comfort. I picked up a fresh baguette (to go with the black bean soup I had made) and some cherries, the first of the season:

After that, we stopped by the garden center and picked up several bags of chicken manure. Folks, don’t try this at home. I washed my hands six times after helping Megan to load the bags in the back of the truck, and I could still smell it. All the perfumes of Arabia couldn’t sweeten my little hands. Megan laughed at me.

We also got fixin’s for a BBQ the next evening and bought some redwood boards, which was harder than you’d think, especially since we live in the heart of redwood country. But the pretty boards were warped, and the non-warped ones tended to have fatal flaws, like a giant crack or way too many knots in them. We were looking for six 10 foot long boards. The guy at the lumber yard was really helpful, looking through board after board. Finally, we found two decent 10s and some decent 20s, which he cut in half while Megan paid for them. He even cheerfully loaded them into the stinky truck.

Saturday was a magical confluence of festivity: Cinco de Mayo, Star’s fourth birthday, and the 138th Kentucky Derby!

The Derby has to be the best sporting event EVAR. Can you name another one where there is a red carpet with celebrities, fabulous hats, daytime drinking is positively encouraged, and it’s over before even I have a chance to get bored? And then there are the gorgeous, glossy horses and the winner being draped in roses.

This year, the delightfully named I’ll Have Another won at 15-1 odds, the first horse in Derby history to win from post position 19. His jockey, appropriately enough, was 25 year old Mexican native Mario Gutierrez, making a memorable debut at the Derby after winning Santa Anita last month. I bet he had another!

We had expected company for dinner, so Megan and I bought a pork roast which I marinated in lime juice and spices on Friday, thinking it would be a good choice for a crowd to make fajitas. We hadn’t even thought about it being Cinco de Mayo, but it worked out well that way. Birthday girl Star celebrated spending half of her life in love and safety, where she will remain for the rest of her life. She patiently waited for her birthday dinner:

Other than Star, it ended up just being Jonathan, Megan, and me. We slow cooked the pork roast in foil over the coals, then grilled red peppers and rd onions and had it all with salsa in handmade tortillas by the fire as the sun slowly faded over the garden. We talked about the past and the future, sitting in the garden they have worked so hard to create. Looking at the faces of two people I love most in the world, I thought, “I love my life.”

It’s only 7 am, and Clyde has already driven me crazy. Here’s how he does it:

• Go behind the new couch.
• Start clawing at the back of it.
• When The Girl yells at you, go under the couch and start clawing there.
• When the girl moves the couch out to yell at you and/or grab you, sneak behind the heater.
• Mess around back there until the heater and/or phone go on and off, with accompanying beeping.

I ejected Clyde into the sunny morning, even though I suspect that he may begin to see clawing the couch as a doorbell substitute.

Any suggestions on how to eliminate the clawing problem?

Also in the Cats Behaving Badly department is Digit*, the office cat.

As you know, staff meetings at the jobette are frequently attended by our Director of Barketing. He turned up yesterday in a natty red plaid vest, tail wagging, only to be greeted by a hissing and puffy Digit. Erin removed Digit from the meeting, and was scratched for her trouble. The dog and his owner went out the back door after the meeting, and when we opened the conference room/kitchen door, Digit was curled up on a chair, looking like nothing had happened.

Hopefully, they can work it out. The CEO’s kids chased Digit all over the office on Friday, and she put up with that. She also had no trouble with his dog, so maybe she just needs more time to adjust and realize that she is safe in her new home.

*Megan stopped by the jobette yesterday after teaching a CPR class. She thinks Digit is a silver tabby, like Megan’s beautiful cat Harriet.

Megan’s Boss

We all have little tricks for helping us remember things. Post-Its on the mirror so we are reminded of mundanities like picking up milk while applying our DiorShow mascara. The classic string tied around the finger (though I’d probably forget why I tied the string there in the first place, and then I’d want to add a tassel and maybe some beading, and….I can see why I’ve never tried that one). Mnemonics like HOMES for the Great Lakes.

Rob, of course, does it in his own inimitable style.

Little Miss Schatzi is on a strict regimen to keep her at her happiest and healthiest. Seeing her prance through my garden, as she frequently does, or jump for joy when she sees me, you’d never know that her bones look like Swiss cheese under her elegant brindle coat (and cuddly sweater, since it’s still winter in Hooterville, no matter what the calendar and reclusive East Coast rodents say). This is almost entirely due to Megan and Rob’s care and feeding of their aging princess.

Schatzi gets pain medication and anti-inflammatories three times a day. Megan usually takes care of Round One when she gets home from work in the morning, and Round Three when she heads out to work, but Rob has to remember the middle of the day pilling. This can be a challenge if he is out of the house or not feeling well himself or if he just plain forgets.

Instead of the string or Post-It, though, he went the Rob Route:

He created a sculpture out of found items around the property (I can practically hear James’ ghost saying, “See? That’s why I kept all that stuff!”) and fastened it to the mirror, which is also conveniently located to the most frequently frequented area in their little cottage: the coffee pot. He painted it with the words “PILL THE DOG” to remind him of why it’s there.

Notice that there’s an arrow pointing to a picture of a dog for extra reminding help.

Oh, and the little cup on the top left-hand side of the sculpture holds the actual pills (in a delicious Pill Pocket, which is meat-flavored Play Doh beloved by all of the canine persuasion). So you have form and function. How often can you say that?

Well, Le Bug has finally begun to loosen its Vulcan death grip. Sure, I cough myself awake a couple of times a night, and am still the major Kleenex consumer on the west coast, but I was well enough to go back to the jobette this week.

It was a week that reminded me just how petite this town really is. On Monday, I saw my brother and one of his charges emerging from the health food store across the street. I called out to him, but he didn’t hear me through the wind and traffic. By time I could get across the street, he was gone.

The next day, I was just starting up the steps of the office when I heard a horn honking. It was the lovely Monica, waving good morning as she drove past on her way to her store, two blocks away. Daisy, of course, was smiling from the passenger seat.

On Wednesday, I was getting in my car when I noticed a dog across the street who looked a lot like Star. A closer look revealed that it was in fact Star, whose excitement when she saw me too could barely be contained. I honestly think that no-one on earth is as happy to see me as Star is.

It turned out that Rob was walking her while he waited for a new tire to be applied to his trusty truck. When you start seeing metal poking through the treads, it’s time to invest in a new one. We hugged goodbye, and he and Star trotted off to pick up the new and improved truck.

It’s a good thing that I’m feeling better, because my house turned into Grand Central Station last night. Rob stopped by to work on a couple of projects, and Mark called. He needed to borrow a cup of internet, so I told him to come on over with his computer.

It turns out that Mark has a YouTube video of Lucky the deer and Luna the dog which is so popular that he gets little checks from them every couple of months. Who knew? Also, he’s going to New Jersey on Friday to start a huge project: overseeing the dismantling of a L’Oreal factory and moving it to its new home in Mexico.

I missed a lot while I was sick.

Then Mark’s wife (and Rose’s older daughter) Citlali came over to check her email on Mark’s computer. Citlali said that it’s still a little strange for her being in her mother’s house, even though it’s been nearly three years since her death. “But,” she said looking around, “you have really made it your own. Everything is so beautiful.”

It really was: friends and family together in my little house, with the rain falling outside in the darkness and love and laughter within.

The other night, Megan and Rob were fast asleep. It was, after all, 1 am, a perfectly reasonable hour to be doing so. In fact, most of us expect most of us to be doing just that.

They were yanked out of sleep by Star barking her head off. Now, neither of their dogs are barkers. Megan has put a lot of effort into making sure of this. I used to laugh at how she’d sneak out of sight when she left them in the car and then come back to admonish them if they barked, but now that I’m in town a lot more, I really appreciate this. Not a day goes by without senselessly barking dogs.

It turns out that Star had every reason to bark. Rob opened the little purple door to reveal a strange man standing on the porch. And I do mean strange. He told Rob some tale about his father and a gun and a few other things, then asked for a cigarette.

Rob cheerfully lied that there were no smokes on the premises, and then suggested that the guy call the cops. He mumbled something and shuffled off into the darkness, with both Rob and Megan wondering a) What the hell just happened here? and 2) Hope he doesn’t head to Suzy’s place.

He didn’t; or at least he chose not to come in any of the five unlocked doors at his disposal. Of course, cats don’t bark, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think we had any midnight visitors.

The whole thing is really odd, though. We live more than five miles down a narrow, rough, barely paved road from a town where the latest thing open is the store, which closes at 6 in the winter. There are no bars or nightclubs within dozens of miles (or more). There are no streetlights. He would have had to go all that way down the road, and then choose our driveway, which is nothing but a dirt/mud track with giant rocks filling the potholes (Mark’s latest repair effort).

He had to pass the front house, which is usually unoccupied, though huge, and nearly always has a light on, and then pick the little offshoot that leads to Megan and Rob’s place. Theirs is the only house which isn’t on the main driveway, which makes the whole thing even odder. Mine is the most obvious after the front house, and I always have a light on at night. Megan and Rob don’t.

Go figure.

They say this has never happened to them in the many years they have lived here, and our brother says the same. I don’t think it will happen again, and in any case, nothing really did happen. I’m not going to fit locks to my doors (or, more likely, have Rob do it). But it’s certainly a mystery, country-style.

This year was about change: getting the jobette; swimming lessons; having to make peace with driving a lot more. Change is good, right?

One deleterious effect of working more is reading less. I read 118 books in 2011, vs. 140 in 2010. The favorites of the year were Sue Grafton’s “V Is for Vengeance” and Candice Millard’s tour de force, “Destiny of the Republic”.

We are also getting a lot less rain this season. Last year, we totalled about 60 inches (or 153 centimeters), and already had half of that by December 31, 2010. This year, we’ve gotten about 11 inches (28 centimeters) so far. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here by saying there’s probably a drought in my future. Number of power outages: 3. So far this season: 1, and an early one at that.

It was a great summer, though: lots of sun, little fog, no heat waves.

As far as last year’s resolutions went: not bad. I did a lot of work on the garden, though there are more things I’d like to do, given time and money, always in short supply. I still worry about the cats, and probably always will, to some extent. The loss of the beautiful and beloved June was traumatic, and, as Jessica pointed out to me, I’m a worrier. Maybe I should just embrace my inner (outer?) worrier.

This year’s resolutions are to reinstate Thursday dinners for my overworked sister – they fell by the wayside with the increased busy-ness of my schedule – and to spend more time with my brother when there’s no project to be done or special occasion to be celebrated. I always have a great time with him, but I don’t see him often enough.

And, you know, keep working on the garden and trying to minimize Calamity Suzy episodes.

Let me know what your resolutions are. And thanks for reading yet another year!

January:

How to plant tulips. Logging road walk. A check-up for the kittens. A walk with Schatzi. The beginning of A’s life-threatening illness. Another vet visit. A walk through the Village. A surprise visit from Jessica! Falling off a log really is easy. Dealing with two broken fingers: not so much. They still look freaky and witch-like. A brief trip to San Francisco. A is improving.

February:

Back in touch with the outside world. A finally gets out of Intensive Care. And I get the jobette! The boys make a windmill. Week One at the jobette. A’s slow recovery continues. Beautiful new garden chairs. A rare and magical snow day!

March:

A quick tour of the jobette. A graduates from Intensive Care to the HIghly Dependent Unit. Tragedy strikes our sister city in Japan. Doin’ it Rob style. Signs of spring. My beloved father’s 80th birthday. It’s not snow this time, it’s hail! The painting saga. Flooding. The week in pictures. Spring arrives in the garden.

April:

The painting problem is solved – at least, for now. Power outages. Little salon in the big woods. A is finally in a regular hospital ward, while Clyde is a little limpy. A nice little burn to go with my broken fingers. Jessica’s birthday! My blog’s 10th birthday! First BBQ of the year. A sad and loving farewell.

May:

The fabulous circus. New contact lenses. A walk through town. Star’s birthday. My tulips in bloom. Countrified. Fabulous garage sale finds. Girls’ night out. A short visit to San Francisco. The magnificent Balenciaga exhibit. Back home. Megan’s birthday. Car troubles – and a birthday celebration.

June:

Car trouble and bad weather. Truly rural. Bi-coastal. Rainy birthday to me. Happy first birthday to the boys! Rob is scheduled for more surgery. An evening with Erica and Jessica. Rose’s chicken curry. Unveiling the clock of ages. Rob’s surgery is rescheduled. The operation. Back home. Houdini lives!

July:

Audrey turns four. Found poetry. Both Rob and A are on the road to recovery. Kitty updates. Home improvements. Jessica visits the jobette. Musical contrasts. Erica and Jessica move to Portland (~sob~). The last Harry Potter movie ever.

August:

Propane prettifying. Encore de car. A change of address. Garden updates. The tenth anniversary of my father’s untimely and completely unnecessary death. I love you and miss you, Old Bear. More car fixing (or not). The bliss of Brian. Star meets quail.

September:

Mark’s seizure. He has epilepsy and is taking meds for it. So far, so good. Thank goodness. Free palms. The Houdini dog expands her repertoire. Planting the palms. The joys of aquafit. The delights of the County Fair. Clyde takes it on the chin. A visit from the generator fairy. A total meltdown.

October:

The car is finally fixed. I hope. Swimming clinic doesn’t go quite as swimmingly as I’d hoped. Car-share begins (and is still going on). The plague descends. My second anniversary of moving to Hooterville. The arrival of Turbo, Mark’s horse.

November:

Pool problems. Feeding the family. Meetings in San Francisco. Too tired to shop. A delightful day. Back home. The lowdown on high beams. Star and Megan are both stars. Thanksgiving Eve. A happy Thanksgiving. An early season blackout.

December:

Sunny days and sparkling nights. A look around the garden. An amazing experience. Girls’ Night In. A sudden loss. Up with the tree! An adventurous evening. And a tree adventure. Christmas cheer. A magical evening. The wit and wisdom of Jessica.

That’s it for 2011. Wishing you all a happy and healthy new year!

The day after Christmas, I was surprised to be the first one up. I had expected the eight year old to be hopping and popping in the way that eight year olds do. Sometimes I think we’re born with all the energy we’re going to have and just use it up as we go along, dying when we finally run out of the supply. Certainly I was less bouncy at 48 than I was at 8. At least at 8 am.

Coming quietly down the stairs from the sleeping loft, I could see Paul asleep on the air mattress and Erica and Jessica looking like angels on the bed of nails, also known as the sofabed. When I apologized for the bed of nails-ness, Jessica said, “It’s like sleeping on air! And air is so comfortable!”

I was just pouring a second cup of coffee when I saw Jarrett walking by the sliding glass doors with a mountain of laundry. I went to meet him in the laundry room/pantry/cat dining room and we chatted for a while as he started the first of five loads of laundry. Somewhere between the third and fourth loads, I wondered how and when I had become Mom. At least I did it without stretchmarks and exorbitant college tuition.

By the time I returned to the living room, a second pot of coffee was being made and Erica was dispensing toast. Jessica was definitely the most lively at that point, the grown-ups, the house, and the garden looking a lot like that Katy Perry song “Last Friday Night”.

Caffeinated and toasted, Erica and Jessica started to pack up and get ready for the 12 hour road trip ahead of them. I tried to hide their gorgeous dog Lucy to no avail:

They adopted her from the pound many years ago, but she turns out to be some fancy breed called Munsterhound. She may well be the most beautiful and softest dog I have ever seen. All I can say is if there were a whole breed of Lucys, they would all be made into fur coats. Erica had the same thought.

It was hard not to cry as the car packed with fabulous girls made its way down the driveway, but Megan and I are hoping to drive up to Portland this summer.

Jarrett headed home in the early afternoon with a car full of clean clothes, but Paul stayed for a day or two, definitely helping that after Christmas let-down. He might also come back next week, so there’s still something to look forward to.

Star showing off her skills

I’m pleased to announce that Star passed her American Kennel Club Canine Good Citizenship test. With flying colors! On her first try! It’s all the more impressive considering her past. Sometimes I’m still amazed by what a happy, loving dog she is after all she went through, and how much she has changed in the year and a half since Megan and I rescued her one beautiful spring day.

Megan has worked really hard with Star, including the eight week class that led up to the test. The test is given nationally, so every dog in the country who passes has met the same standard. You can read more about the CGC program here.

If/when Megan gets a new (to her) car, she’ll sign Star up for advanced classes, but for now, it’s enough to have the yellow bandanna and the accreditation. A gold Star for our Star!

In other dog-related news, Megan and Monica were on the radio last Thursday morning, talking about their work with Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue. The radio station doesn’t stream on computers – what else do you expect in a place with no cell phone service? – so Rob and I huddled in the car with the radio on and listened together.

The girls did great, both sounding calm and assured, a real feat for poor Megan, who had just finished the last of four consecutive 12 hour shifts in the ER and showed up at the radio station in her scrubs. “I just hope no-one bleeds on me tonight,” she said to me the night before.

The DJs were so impressed that they invited them back, and, best of all, gave them a check for $150, inviting listeners to match the donation. I am so proud of Monica, Megan, and Star.

Today marks the second anniversary of my moving to Hooterville.

What better way to celebrate the occasion than a walk with my sister and Schatzi on the headlands of the Village?

Come on, let’s go!

Here’s the Village. If it weren’t for the cars, it could be the 1800s:

Here you can see the remains of a dock. Because of the rocky shoreline, loggers and visitors had to basically zipline from the ship to the shore, standing on a tiny wooden platform. I’ve seen pictures of Victorian ladies doing it with an air of surprising insouciance.

Schatzi wasn’t quite as interested in the view as I was:

I tried to capture how her brindle looked like the fall grasses in the sunlight. Also her beautiful smile:

I feel so lucky to live somewhere so beautiful:

And to share my life with such wonderful family, friends, dogs, and cats.

Mugshot

Megan was getting ready for work when she discovered that she couldn’t find her handbag.

In all fairness, it must be said that she is a little careless of it at times. Mostly it lives on the backseat floor of her car, just as her keys live in the ignition, except when she’s at work. How else would you know where they are? And when it’s sunny, she often leaves the car doors open so the car doesn’t get too hot inside.

We knew she had her bag when we were buying the last-minute items for our brother’s belated birthday barbecue, but we couldn’t remember seeing it after that. She and Rob scoured their house-ette and the car while I called the store.

No luck. Megan was late for work, so she had to leave after borrowing some money for lunch – when you work a 12 hour shift, you have to eat twice while at work, so planning is necessary, especially in a place where everything is closed overnight.

After she left, Rob was watering the garden when he stumbled over something.

It was Megan’s wallet.

Then he came across the little pouch with her hairbrush, etc., in it. Eventually he found the bag and the rest of its contents, including a now-empty treat bag. We had taken Star to Big River and used the treats in a training session, and Megan had left them in her bag when we got back to the car.

We know it wasn’t Star, because she was in the house. Remembering the sunny day and the open car doors, Megan realized that Schatzi had taken the bag from the car and brought it into the garden to eat the treats. Whenever you give her a treat, she always takes it back there to enjoy it.

So there you have it. You can teach an old dog new tricks. She can sneak out of your brother’s house at the dead of night and go home, or jump out of an upstairs window without hurting herself, or help herself to your handbag in the back of a car.

It takes a Schatzi!

Ready for fun. Or trouble. Whatever comes first.

I really thought I’d get more blogging material out of the trip to Napa. I guess that’s what happens when you plan a trip around an event, rather than a place. No wonder I’ve never done it that way before.

I find it interesting that I blogged more often when I spent most of my time in Hooterville. You wouldn’t think that much happened around here.

Here’s a couple of things you missed:

I am slowly learning the wily ways of wildlife. One day, I was driving down the Ridge in a fog (inside and out), and suddenly, a young deer loomed in the mist. I stopped, and it ran into the woods. I waited, because there’s never just one, and sure enough, its buddy came prancing out, stared at me in the regulation manner, and then took off.

Megan one-upped me as usual by telling me about the time she was stopped in her car at Point Cabrillo Lighthouse* and a deer ran into her. Literally. The deer’s head plunged into the car’s open window, its huge black eye just inches away from Megan’s own. It’s hard to say who was more startled. The deer ran away in horror, leaving no sign of what happened other than fur stuck to the car door.

Recently, Megan and I were walking Star on the property when she flushed some quail. Both Star and Schatzi love to chase quail. I called out, “You’ll never catch one, Star!”, but she surprised us both by doing just that. I told Megan that I thought Star had a quail. She went into the bushes and flushed Star, who had a strange look on her face. One wing tip was sticking out of her mouth.

Megan told Star to drop it, and she did, opening her mouth. The quail beetled away like a wind-up toy, and Star cocked her head to one side, looking at Megan as if to say, “Not good?”

*When you come to visit, I’ll take you there. Great whale watching place, and the setting is amazing.

Well, Erica and Jessica are settled in their new (to them), century-old house, merrily ordering delivery dinners. Jessica has already made friends with the kids on her block. It makes me happy to know she’s going to grow up like Ramona the Pest, in a happy neighborhood with lots of kids and adventures to be had on her very own Klickitat Street.

Besides the farewell barbecue for the Dynamic Duo, it’s been hard for us to fit in seeing the new Harry Potter movie, even though we’ve been looking forward to it since Part I ended. Typically, we fit it in between errands on Friday. Rob tagged along, though in the way of many men when confronted with extended periods of shopping, he tended to bail on us when we were actually in the store.

We went to Safeway before the movie, loading up Miss Scarlett’s trunk while Star patiently waited in the backseat. She also had to wait in the car during the movie, but I think that dogs would rather wait in the parking lot than at home, since being in the car means a) being with the people; and 2) the possibility of fun. Also, Star hasn’t read the books.

Our timing was perfect, though: we arrived in the theater just as the last trailer ended, and the opening credits started just as we took our seats. I noticed that there were only two other people in the theater besides the three of us, and that was almost certainly a unique experience among viewers of this movie.

I enjoyed the movie very much, despite the darkness noted by critics. The one thing I really didn’t like was the epilogue, which I also disliked in the book. I think the three friends should have been left at the end of their victorious battle, on the brink of adulthood with all the rest of lives before them, rather than having their dull domesticity spelled out for us.

But that’s just me.

After the movie, we emerged blinking into the sunshine to take Star for a walk in a nearby field. Then we finished our errands, came home, and unloaded the car. Back to reality. It was nice to have that little break from the real world. That’s the magic of movies – and books.

Sleeping shop cat in the Castro

While we were away, Jonathan was on pet patrol. It turned out to be a lot more complicated than he thought.

Early one morning, he woke up freezing, only to discover that his door was wide open. Star was sleeping peacefully, but Schatzi had apparently pushed the door open and escaped.

It’s hard to find a deaf dog in the pre-dawn country darkness. He eventually found her shivering in her own backyard. She happily hopped into his car, and he added a long training leash to the backseat before taking her back to his place. Schatzi spent the rest of the day on the long, long leash if she was outside, or not, if she was inside.

That evening, she asked to go out and pee. As soon as she was out, she made a break for it. Jonathan clapped to get her to come back while scrambling into his shoes to chase her. By then, she had a good lead, and by the time he got in the car to go after her, she vanished.

He spent all night looking for her to no avail. Finally, he called Megan in hysterics early in the morning to tell her that Schatzi was lost. It takes a lot to make him cry, but we all know how Megan adores her dogs. It must have been one of the worst nights of his life.

Megan told Jonathan not to worry, and he kept looking for Schatzi. Eventually, he found her sleeping in her garden as if nothing had happened. He shut her in the house anyway, since we were coming back that day. Checking on her later, he found her in the garden again. He was sure that the doors were closed, but checked them again, just in case.

They were.

This time he just left her outside, since we were due home in a couple of hours.

Guess how she got out?

She went upstairs, climbed up on a chest and through the window which is open for Harriet and Ramona, Megan and Rob’s cats. Then, like the cats, she jumped to the ground from the porch roof outside the window. With her fragile old bones. There’s a good idea.

She did make it, though she needed extra pain meds that night. Nothing like an old dog who can learn new tricks, is there? Maybe we should re-name her Houdini!

To continue our family timepiece theme, here’s a clock my brother made with nixie tubes and framed. It’s at the foot of his bed. I asked him if it had an alarm, but he said no. He added that he didn’t need one, which seems to be a family trait. I think I’ve been woken up by my alarm clock once since I started the jobette, nearly five months ago.

I noticed the clock while Megan and I were over there on Saturday. Dave and Jennifer, the co-owners of the property, were visiting from their home in distant Grass Valley. Megan catered dinner, making chicken tikka masala, brown rice, grill bread, cucumber salad, and an apple pie. Due to work, my involvement was limited to putting the marinated chicken on skewers (and later, on the barbecue) and holding the pie while we drove over there. Oh, and eating.

It was delicious, and it was nice to sit by the fire and catch up with Dave and Jennifer as the sun began to drop toward the ocean. Hopefully they will be back soon for another visit.

Because nothing is too good for you, Faithful Reader, I have spared you the grumpy mood I’ve been in over the past few days. The unseasonably rainy weather did absolutely nothing to improve said mood.

Today it’s merely grey and depressing. For some reason, when you get a long weekend, it feels like you get an extra Sunday instead of an extra Saturday. I really should be getting ready for the week ahead instead of blogging about what a crabby little crab cake I am, but one of my few talents is the ability to complain about anything, any time, anywhere.

There was a break in the rain yesterday, replaced by cold winds which sent the windmill spinning and the clothes I hung outside to dry into various parts of the yard.

We decided to have Megan’s birthday barbecue anyway, huddled in our winter coats by the fire. We had sausages with fire roasted peppers, salad, and a cherry pie made from scratch by our brother. He even has an elegant stainless steel cherry pitter. Imagine.

Of all her presents, I think Megan’s favorite was a “city” or “traffic” leash, handmade by a local artisan. It’s about three feet long, and just the right length to get Star from the house to the car and back.

Speaking of cars: as soon as I pulled up at my brother’s yesterday, he came running over to see what on earth was wrong with my car. It did sound quite a lot like the Waltons’ truck, which was forever needing parts from Charlottesville. It turns out my car also needs a part from Charlottesville: a water pump. Apparently I was five or ten minutes away from the defective water pump destroying my engine. So I left the car there and hitched a ride home with Megan and Rob.

Of course, today is a holiday, so I won’t be able to get the part until sometime tomorrow. Jonathan works from Monday through Wednesday afternoon with no break, so hopefully Rob can install it or they can work on it together on Wednesday afternoon.

In the meantime, Megan goes to work tonight as usual (there are no holidays in the ER). She’ll drop the car off here at 7 am, I’ll drive it back where it just came from about an hour later, and return it to Megan in time for her to do the same in the evening. Poor little car. It’s a good thing we learned how to share all those years ago.

Meet Jasper! I met Jasper and his steadfast guardian Rebecca last weekend. Megan and Monica have added community outreach to their regular rescue activities. Rebecca needed some help getting Jasper neutered. He has a heart murmur, so anesthetizing him for the surgery is complicated and expensive, and Rebecca can’t afford it on her own. In fact, Rebecca was unable to find a landlord in this county who would rent to her, because Jasper is a pit bull, so she actually lived in her car with him. She even approached a homeless shelter, but they wouldn’t let Jasper in the shelter and they wouldn’t allow her to park the car out front with him in it. This kind of discrimination continues to shock me, no matter how often I hear it.

I am so impressed with her love and dedication to her dog. I bet most people would have taken Jasper to the homeless pet shelter without a second thought. But not Rebecca.

She turned to Daisy Davis for help, and Megan and Monica located a vet willing to work with them on cost. It turns out that Jasper also has an allergic rash on his belly, so they also bought antibiotics for him. He can’t have the surgery until the rash clears up. But all’s well that ends well: Rebecca found a place that would accept both her and Jasper in a neighboring county, and Jasper should be able to have his surgery in the next couple of weeks.

Monica runs her own business – she has done so successfully for many years – is married, and has several dogs, in addition to founding and running Daisy Davis Pit Bull Rescue. Megan, as you know, works her long night shifts, celebrates her 20th wedding anniversary this summer, has her two dogs and two cats to take care of, and she and Rob both work on the property whenever they can. Yet these two women find the time not only to rescue and love dogs in need, but to reach out to our little community and help where they can. I am so proud of these two, and am so lucky to know them.

They are an inspiration.

Birthday kiss

Happy Cinco de Mayo, y’all! We should be sitting in my garden drinking margaritas in the gorgeous sunshine, admiring my tulips. If only life were really like that.

I’ve blogged about Cinco de Mayo before, but this year we have something extra to celebrate. It’s Star’s birthday! She’s three today.

As you may remember, Megan and I drove all the way to Colusa and back last April to rescue Star. Her owner had jumped off a cliff in front of her horrified child and Star, who went after her to try and save her. Star survived; the owner didn’t. Star had a pretty rough time until we went and got her, and only recently we discovered that what she went through was much, much worse than previously thought.

But all’s well that ends well. Star is still technically Megan’s foster dog, but after a year together, I think it’s safe to say that Star is part of the family. And speaking of safe: this birthday marks the first year of Star’s life where no human has laid a hand on her except in affection. And that’s something to celebrate.

Star meets Padawan, June 2010

Yesterday morning, I saw Schatzi go tearing past my house. Alarmed, yet impressed with her speed given her state of decrepitude, I hurried outside to make sure she was OK. Calling her is pointless at this point, yet I persist in doing it. I clapped my hands a few times and Star came bounding up, but no Schatz.

I accompanied Star back to her rightful residence, despite the fact that I was wearing PJs and slippers and the driveway was full of puddles. Somehow, the speeding Schatzi had beaten me there.

Megan was still up. And something was up. I guess a speeding dog can be an omen, just like a shooting star or a meteor.

When L cut our hair a couple of weeks ago, Megan thought his dog, Padawan, looked pretty bad. She was having trouble walking, and was panting, though it wasn’t hot. She persuaded L to take Padawan to the vet. It was nice Dr. Carl, and he had to tell L that Padawan had cancer in her leg. She is an 11 year old Rottweiler, and even if her leg was amputated, the cancer had spread, and was a particularly nasty and fast-moving one.

It moved faster than we expected. L asked Megan to call Dr. Karen and make arrangements. She waited until it was late enough to call – keep in mind that she had just come home from her 12 hour night shift – and got an appointment for 4:30. She relayed this to L, who said it would have to be sooner. So we settled on 11:00.

Megan took L and Padawan to the vet. Poor Pad yelped on the way there – it was definitely time. Dr. Karen came out to the car, parked beside the garden at the back of her office, and released Padawan from all that pain and suffering. She was very kind and gentle.

When it was over, Megan called Jonathan and me, and we met them at L’s house. The EMS workers efficiently and lovingly transferred Pad’s body to a wheelbarrow for her last journey. Jonathan took charge and I carried the tools. We made our way down the steep path to the spot L had chosen, overlooking his house, bowered in ancient trees.

It was hard work, but as I thought when we laid little Henry to rest this same time last year, it is somehow therapeutic to do this last thing with your own hands for a loved one. Padawan rested in the spring sunshine as we worked. We all bade her a final farewell as the birds sang and the water rushed by far below.

L asked to be left alone, and we all hugged him goodbye. It was hard to leave him there, but I know he is not really alone, and neither is Padawan. They will always be together.