Suzy Says

I was walking by my front door this morning when I glanced outside and noticed Schatzi. I went outside, and before I could even pet her, she was joined by the always bouncy Star. I don’t think anyone has ever been as happy to see me as that dog is, even though I don’t live with her or feed her or anything. She can’t stop jumping on me and kissing me. Maybe Megan should keep her, just for my ego’s sake.

With the dogs prancing around me, I returned them to Megan’s house. On the way, I regretted wearing my amethyst velvet slippers and kitty PJs, since the huckleberry bushes were soaked with dew, or fog, or both.

Will I ever have appropriate country footwear on for any occasion?

After I delivered the dogs, I went back home and got back to work. I had a conference call with my far-flung co-workers, and during the call I pondered the fact that I will wear my PJs during team calls, but not when I’m talking to anyone outside the firm. Even though no-one can see me.

Go figure.

Fortunately, I was dressed when the sheriff showed up. I heard a car pull up and then a knock at the door. No-one ever knocks around here, from dogs to people, so I knew it would be a stranger. I didn’t expect it to be law enforcement, asking for my sister. She was in town getting physio, and I couldn’t reach her by cell phone, so I asked him if I could help.

He said that Megan is a witness in an animal cruelty case, and he has to give her the paperwork in person. I took his phone number and he went on his way. It’s surprising how unnerving a visit from the Law can be, even when they look about 18* and you are, relatively speaking, law-abiding.

Later, I was talking on the phone to Erica, about the kinds of things girls do (school; kids; the power of cleavage) when I saw my brother’s car pull up. I don’t see him as often as you’d think, mostly because of his hectic schedule of working and being a firefighter, so it was a nice surprise. He borrowed a couple of movies and headed home to get some much-needed rest.

He spent 26 straight hours looking for the missing woman over the weekend, and when he got home from that, discovered that his hot water heater had exploded, drenching all his camping gear. My brother used to be a serious camper, even camping in the Sierras in the winter, so his gear is good and was quite an investment. He was able to hang it out to dry, but now he’s living (hopefully temporarily) without hot water. No good deed goes unpunished!

*His obvious youth reminded me of how my father used to say “The bottles get smaller and smaller, and the policemen look like little boys.” I now realize that he was not, in fact, kidding.

Yesterday, the shower only turned icy cold twice. And I wasn’t shaving my armpits or trying to rinse off conditioner (a near-impossible feat in cold water), so, you know, score!

As I stood away from the frigid trickle, choosing the cold air over the cold water, I tried not to think about all the water I was wasting waiting for it to get warm again, and instead wondered what the hell was up with it. This has been a problem ever since Mark overhauled the water system on the property. I mentioned it to him, and he said to call him when it happens. But even if I had a phone in my bathroom, I think I’d refrain for both our sakes.

Megan, Rob, the dogs and I carpooled greenly to town as my hair dried. I felt like a kid in the back seat, while Megan and Rob discussed car repairs and other grown-up topics in the front seat. Even though I’m older than they are. Schatzi curled up in her dainty fashion, while Star took up most of the seat and sprawled all over me. She is under the illusion that she is a lap dog. Also, I think the person who comes up with a way to train dogs not to lick you all the time would make a million billion dollars.

Megan and I checked out the local pool, which is new and fancy. It even has a bathing suit wringing machine in the ladies’ locker room. How’s that for modern science? Their pricing info runs to two pages, so I will have to study it carefully before I can figure out if I can afford it or not.

Although the library emailed me yesterday to tell me that I have several items waiting for me there, they were closed at the time, so I couldn’t pick them up. I imagine my annoyance at this is equalled by the librarians’, who have Friday and Monday off, but not Saturday.

Megan dropped Rob off and then me, while she went to hang out with Monica and talk about dogs. I unfortunately had to have a check-up, which meant wasting valuable hours of what’s left of my life, first in a waiting room equipped with hunting and fishing magazines, along with “American Cheerleader” (“Your best pep rally ever!”), which failed to cheer me in the slightest, and then in a hot little examining room. Fortunately, I didn’t have to wear one of those dignity-destroying little people wrappers.

One of my many high school boyfriends* had a father who was a doctor, and he told me that however many exam rooms they have is how many patients they book for that time, hence the endless waits at the doctor’s office. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I certainly had enough time to consider that and how you truly realize how downwardly mobile you are when you have to go to a clinic with all the other uninsured dregs of society. I looked back on my days of doctors, dentists and specialists with elegant offices and glossy magazines in their tasteful San Francisco waiting rooms and could barely hold back the tears.

One thing I have learned the hard and expensive way is that when you don’t have money, that means you have to pay more. Can’t pay the entire, enormous Amerigas bill? You get to pay additional service charges as you pay it off! Don’t have health insurance and can’t afford to get any? You get to pay $70 for sitting around the clinic surrounded by howling babies and homeless people. Yay! Because you make too much money to get a discount. You make too much money for anything like that, though mysteriously, not enough to pay all your bills and rent. Just another of life’s bitter little mysteries.

*I may have taken him to the curb prematurely. His parents had two Rolls Royces and invitations to every coronation from Queen Victoria onward. Also, he now works at NBC-Universal in London.

The mostly dead wisteria vine

And today, on Wild Kingdom…

When I took the coffeepot out to fill it with water, a little moth fluttered in. I had to persuade it to leave. If it had stayed, it probably could have flown to the moon unaided, since the coffee I made was totally atomic. I accidentally bought ground coffee, and was unwilling to drive for over an hour to correct the error. Unfortunately, it has been so long since I dealt with pre-ground coffee that I have no idea how much to put in the filter. Nor am I inclined to overthink this in a pre-caffeinated state.

My usual MO is to fill up my trusty coffee grinder with beans. However much that is turns out to be the exact right amount, as is so often the case when I cook. Half an onion? Exactly what I needed! Some leftover cilantro? The perfect addition to burritos! However, this was not the case with the ground coffee. A coffee grinder full is too much. The coffee was so strong that I actually had to water it down, making my very own, teeny little Americano.

While I was still waking up, Star came bursting through the front door, left open for my and Audrey’s mutual convenience. She raced across the room, kissed my surprised nose, and then jumped up on the couch next to me and curled up, settling in as if she lived here. It was super cute, and took less time to happen than for you to read about it.

Then the phone rang. You know how parents always ruin your fun. They came and got her before we had a chance to do each other’s nails.

After Star went home, I went to feed Audrey, only to see a lizard scuttling under the washing machine. I thoughtfully left the door open for him, considering not for the first time how blurred the line is between indoors and outdoors here. In fact, there may well be no line at all.

It turned out that Audrey was otherwise occupied anyway. She came trotting into the yard outside the sliding glass doors with a snake writhing in her mouth. I know that the snakes around here are harmless, but that doesn’t make them any less gross, or unwelcome in my house, whether alive and sliming or dead and flaccid. She played with it for a while, and then got bored and went to do something else.

It wasn’t just to keep the snake where it belonged that I shut the sliding glass doors. Really. It was because of the hummingbird which was feeding off the honeysuckle right outside them. He kept buzzing perilously near the open door, and I don’t know about you, but I didn’t want to try and catch something that can fly 30 mph (and dive at 60). It was fun to watch him zooming around and hovering, though.

Later, I caught myself brushing a spiderweb* off the (mostly) dead wisteria outside and wondered if the crazy gene has finally caught up with me. Megan and Rob both assure me that it’s not really dead and there’s new growth coming along, but it sure looks dead to me. I’d like to get a cutting of the jasmine that covers part of their house and train it up the dead(ish) vine. Imagine how great the honeysuckle and jasmine would smell together!

*Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just gave up on my constant spiderweb removal. How long would it take until this looked like the Addams’ Family’s vacation home?

You can take the girl out of Oakland*, but you can’t take the Oakland out of the girl…

L’il A has taken to acting like a little hoodlum lately. She probably has a tattoo lurking under her fur. Her target: the Notorious D.O.G. gang.

When Rob was helping me with the great Painting Project last week, Star showed her objections to being left home alone by breaking out and joining us. L’il A showed her objections to a rival gang member being on her turf by puffing up hugely and clawing at the unsuspecting (and surprised) Star.

I shooed Audrey away, but she hid under the house, and when Star walked by, Audrey pounced on her. Star was shocked and backed away, wondering what the hell was going on. Audrey was unrepentant.

Rob took Star home again and Audrey ran off to terrorize the local bird population for a change of pace.

Yesterday, Luna was lying on the dusty driveway, minding her own business, when L’il A pulled the puff’n’pounce on her. Luna wisely trotted home, but I have to say I’m worried about this trend. One of these days, Audrey is going to pull this crap on a dog who is less understanding than Luna or Star and she’ll be hurt or even killed. Attacking someone who is about a hundred times bigger than you are is not the greatest idea.

Any thoughts on how to reform this feline delinquent before it’s too late? Possibly a well-timed and well-aimed squirt of water? All suggestions welcome.

*News like this certainly makes me glad I did.

If only

I enjoy painting about as much as I’m good at it, but I seem to be on some kind of roll.

Today I painted the border around the window in my office nook, which is conveniently located between the bathroom and the front door. I’m going to put up a matchstick blind there, since the window faces south and tends to be blinding in the afternoon. Otherwise, there’s no need for window treatments, unless you worry about the trees peeking in at you.

In the bathroom, I painted the window inside the shower, and applied primer to the red door which leads to the back porch. Thankfully, the other side of the door is plain wood. I’m planning to paint the bathroom doors and the front door a soft blue. I tried not to despair over the terrible painting jobs of the past while trying not to add to them.

When that was done, I primered the red side of the other bathroom door (the hallway side is blue) and the doorway around it. I was slightly hampered in this by Star’s unexpected cameo, slapping her tail against the paint and bouncing all over the painter. I brought her back to Megan, who was cleaning out her car in preparation for the Jelly Bean Mechanic’s ministrations today. When you have 205,000 miles on your car, it needs a little attention.

When I came back from the dog delivery, I finished off the day’s painting chores and cleaned the brushes. At that point, I realized that I couldn’t take a shower, since the paint on the shower window is still wet. Good thing I have an alternative nearby.

Before

It’s a lovely, sunny Saturday. It seemed like a good day to paint the wall. You know, the one with the flash heater outside and strange, convoluted piping. I should have known better than to start any project during the reign of terror of the comma*, when I tend to be at my crabbiest and least patient – I should have spent the day lying on the couch, watching Marilyn movies, eating PopTarts, bemoaning the utter uselessness of ibuprophen and wondering why everyone acts as if it’s the answer to everything – but I am a) a slow learner; and b) not all that smart. Though I’m apparently the queen of lengthy sentences.

I assembled my appropriately named quart of paint, a brush, a piece of cardboard, painter’s tape, and a small step stool. I figured it would just take an hour or two, easy. In this, as in many things, I was wrong. Fortunately, Rob stopped by to point out the error of my painting ways, such as:

• Don’t wear sandals.
• Use a real ladder, not a step stool.
• Don’t hold the can of paint while you’re painting. Pour some of it into something smaller, in case you Calamity Suzy it.
• It’s a good idea to measure the wall before you buy the paint. That way you’ll actually have enough. Imagine.
• I should have primed the wall first. Oh, well.
• Clean off the spider webs and dirt before applying painter’s tape.
• Yes, it is gross.

  And I thought I’d done so well in picking out a nice color and telling the guy it was for an exterior. I’m convinced that this, among many other things, is in that grown-up manual I never got.

  It soon became apparent that a quart would not be enough, especially when painting this weird chipboard stuff, which lived up to its name by chipping and peeling at every opportunity. It’s also thirstier than F. Scott Fitzgerald after a particularly grueling day of screenwriting.

  While I was swearing and daubing, Rob removed the bright aluminum thing from the top of the flash heater and is spray painting it for me. He also removed the decaying lattice over the bathroom window and rerouted and hid whatever that yellow cord was on the wood part of the wall.

  While we were doing that, Star was escaping from Rob’s backyard, bounding into the middle of the proceedings, annoying Audrey and making her puff up to about six times her size. She clawed and hissed at Star until Rob tied Star up. Audrey sat just out of range, giving Star the stinkiest stink eye you’ve ever seen. Audrey has become much more territorial in this post-June world, and now growls and claws at any dog she sees.

  I’ve used up all the paint, so I can’t post an “after” picture until I go to town and get more paint (don’t hold your breath). But here’s a “during” photo:

  

  *I’m not calling it a period anymore, because that suggests an end to something. Whereas a comma suggests a series of things, possibly even an unending series of things, which is the way things seem to be going.

Audrey’s new hangout

1. I followed my sister’s advice and complained to the Motel 6 manager. He apologized and is going to mail me a gift certificate good at any Motel 6 in the entire US of A. I said thanks, but privately wondered why companies whose products have disappointed you offer you more of the same disappointing product to make up for it. “Sure, we lost your luggage and nearly killed you, but hey, why not try it again for free?”

   I kept that thought to myself, though.

2. Rob did fix the cat door of death. It’s sealed at all times, though I guess I could take the cover off during the day. It seems unnecessary with all the other doors being open, some of them in a so far vain attempt to get rid of the booze’n’condiment smell in the pantry.
3. It looks like we’ll have to come up with a Plan B for Star the foster dog if/when Meg has her knee surgery done. Star is just one of those dogs who like to chase anything that crosses her path, from quail to kitties, and the thought of her chasing my remaining kitty makes me quail, so she can’t stay here post-op as originally planned. Hopefully our collective ingenuity will come up with an alternative which will stop Star from bouncing on Megan in her Tigger-like fashion while keeping the local cats un-chased.
4. Speaking of cats, Harriet got sick of being an invalid yesterday and took off all day. [Update: she’s back!] I’m hoping this means that her leg is feeling better, though still dislocated, and also that she is back home by now (it’s too early to call and find out). Megan is much more philosophic about these things than her paranoid big sister. She says, “She’s lived here all her life, and if she doesn’t come home, it’s because she doesn’t want to.” Whereas I have already called Audrey with treats because it’s 8:00 and I haven’t seen her since I let her out two hours ago. She came, ate the treats, and left.

You can see in the picture that she has a new place to hang out. It’s to the left of the sliding glass doors and to the right of the bathroom door leading to the porch (the surprisingly useful one). I’m not sure why this part of the house is open like that, but I’m planning to put potted plants in there one of these days.

That’s one of my vague home improvement plans, like painting parts of the exterior, finishing the de-hippifying and clean-up of the garden, and doing something about that godawful lime green floor in the foyer and bathroom that may or may not ever happen. However, Mark has promised to buy me new carpet for the sleeping loft, so once that’s installed, maybe it will spur me to get going on the other projects.

Or not.

Is that a treat, or are you just happy to see me?

Since Megan’s been sidelined by her ongoing injury – two weeks since her MRI and no surgery date in sight – she’s had to ask for help training Star. We want to keep the training sessions going, since the newspaper piece should appear on July 1 and we’re hoping to show Star off to prospective adoptive parents at the big Humane Society event on July 10.

Fortunately, Megan has built up a lot of goodwill over the years, and people have been really helpful, donating their time and expertise to make Star the best Star she can be (and the most adoptable).

Yesterday, we met Carol in the village. We handed Star over to her, and she took Star all over the place, meeting new people and dogs. Just the hand-off itself was a minor triumph, since Star had refused to walk with Carol alone on Tuesday.

While Star was out and about and Megan was stranded on a park bench with the latest Victoria Thompson*, I wandered around and took a few photos for you, so you can walk along with me.

Doesn’t it look like it’s 1945 instead of 2010?

Another sign of the passing times:

I checked, and the phone book is still in there. Just in case.

A water tower for you to live in, with a view of the ocean. Looks like a great place to dream and write:

Star did really well, and today she’s playing with Lu’s dogs, Harlow and Marco. She’s come a really long way in the two months we’ve had her. Tonight we’re planning to have a barbecue at my house with Star in attendance. We have to get her used to being here, because if Megan ever has her surgery, Star will have to sleep with me for the first week or so. Megan can’t risk having 52 pounds of musclebound dog jumping on her leg in the middle of the night. Hopefully Audrey can adjust to yet another night time change. And she can sleep upstairs in the dog-free zone.

*Megan introduced me to these fun, Victorian-era whodunits set in New York a few years ago. So I’m next when she’s finished with this one!

My orchid, beginning to bloom

Like dog, like girl…

Megan was at work on Monday night when she pivoted to her left and felt something pop in her knee. She sat down, and couldn’t get up again. “Uh-oh,” she thought, calling a nurse over. It seems that she has torn the same ligament in the same leg that Schatzi did about a month ago.

Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but in this case, it was also the most painful. She couldn’t find anyone to cover for her, so she worked the remaining nine hours of her twelve hour shift on crutches, then went home with painkillers and workers’ comp paperwork. She’s not going back to work anytime soon.

Today, she’s off to see the orthopedist so will hopefully have more answers to the questions of what, where, when, how, and how much.

Her knees have been troubling her a lot lately – she’s had surgery on them before – and Rob kept telling her she should get them checked and dealt with, but with the foster dog and ailing dog, it didn’t seem like a good time to do it. Turns out Rob was right. He was also right about Henry. Five days before Henry died, Rob said, “That cat’s not long for this world”. I didn’t want to believe him, either.

Yesterday, I went over to see her and remarked that it was a pretty lousy birthday for her. The birthday barbecue got rained out, and now this happened as soon as she went back to work. She disagreed, saying that she loved the pit bull shirt and watercolor card I gave her, we had a great time at the movies with the girls and at the delayed party; she had her hair cut and got a free massage.

I should look on the bright side more often.

The salon

It was almost a year since my hay bale haircut, so it was definitely time for another one. This time, we went to our friend L’s house. To get there, you turn off the main road onto another one which eventually dwindles into a dirt path. You turn off that onto a seemingly endless dirt road, which must be a joy to drive on in the muddy winter, and leave your car near the gate. You go through the gate and climb down a narrow path generously strewn with redwood needles.

Amazingly, I failed to fall and roll down the steep slope, though on the way back I had to pause to catch my breath and wonder how on earth the builders got all their supplies down to the house site. Not to mention every day matters, like lugging groceries.

Arriving safely at L’s house, we were warmly greeted by his wonderful dog Padawan and wowed by the scenery. Since landscaping is both L’s vocation and avocation, it’s not surprising that his house is surrounded by beautiful plants and flowers:

We sat on his deck, which overlooks the view above, and had our hair cut. I think Megan had around six inches cut off her hair, and I had about four cut off mine. After our al fresco styling, we repaired to the picnic table in the garden and drank lemonade before heading back up the mountain to the car.

Somehow, our brother’s offer of making a birthday dinner for Megan morphed into his sisters’ buying everything and bringing it to his place for a barbecue, though he did give her a gift certificate for a massage and made a huckleberry pie. L came with his dog, and it was great to see Star meet her. Padawan is such a gentle, well-trained dog and is a great role model for Star.

Star meets Padawan

We sat around the fire, laughing and remembering the long-ago past when we were children together. The setting sun seemed to burnish our memories, making them golden as the chill of evening set in.

About twelve hours after Megan and I parted ways with Lu at the Wharf, we met up at Big River.

Ligament tearing seems to be all the rage these days, since both Schatzi and Lu’s dog Marco (who can be admired here) are sidelined with the same injury. Schatzi will see Dr. Karen next week for a leg once-over. We’re still hoping to avoid the expensive and time-consuming surgery for her, but Marko and Lu’s wallet are not so lucky.

Though Marco is a mere three years old, he’s also 123 pounds of lovin’, and big dogs like that don’t self-repair in the way we’re hoping Schatzi does. So he will definitely have to face the knife and Lu will have to face the bill.

But we tried not to think about that as we set off down the path with Star and Harlow.

Once again, I failed to bring my camera, thinking that I had posted enough pictures of Big River, but I should have brought it to take pictures of Star and Harlow together. If I can make a resolution halfway through the year, I resolve to bring my camera with me whenever I leave the house.

We had a good walk. Star met a really nice older dog (rescued from horrors in Mexico) and several cyclists without getting upset or nervous. She’s really come a long way since Megan started fostering her. We’re hoping that we can bring her to the local Humane Society’s event in early July to meet some prospective parents.

Arriving back at the car, we discovered that Calamity Suzy had struck again.

Megan and I did some shopping for her belated birthday barbecue before meeting Lu, and since the provisions included beer and wine, and the parking lot at Big River was full of visitors, I thought it wise to lock the car. Unfortunately, I didn’t run this by Megan, who usually leaves her keys in the ignition. So we were locked out of the car.

It takes a Suzy.

It was especially ironic since I’d made a point of propping the doors open at my house so it wouldn’t be hot when I got home, and I had remarked to Megan that when I lived in the city, I made sure every door was locked when I was going to be out all day, whereas here I make sure they stay open.

Megan called Rob, who agreed to meet us at Frankie’s with the spare key. Lu drove us to Frankie’s, where we sat in the sunshine eating ice cream while waiting for Rob. When he arrived, he wasted no time in repo-ing Star, and drove off. Lu took us back to the car, and wisely waited while Meg made sure the key fit.

It did, and everyone was much nicer to me than I deserved.

Up next: a birthday barbecue and a haircut! Not necessarily in that order.

Megan gets a kiss from Shiloh, Monica’s foster puppy

It’s Megan’s birthday today. For the first time we can remember, her traditional birthday BBQ has been rained out. When we were giving Schatzi her walkette yesterday, Megan mentioned that Hooterville’s longest and most beloved resident had recently told her that one year long ago the rain had lasted until the Fourth of July. Let’s not try and break that record, ‘k?

Megan worked last night, but took the rest of the week off in honor of her birthday. She did this several months ago (both of us having a long-standing belief that working on your birthday is just wrong), before we had any idea that it could possibly still be raining. It’s supposed to stop raining on Friday, but even if it doesn’t, we will still have fun, because Monica, Lu, Megan and I have a date to see “Sex & the City 2” that night.

We’re hoping to have a combined birthday BBQ on the weekend. And at some point, we have to have a Juneapalooza, because Erica, Lu, Monica and I all have June birthdays.

Megan was supposed to be born on my birthday, but Mom’s obstetrician had a feeling something was wrong and took her out early (my brother was a Caesarean, and in those days, that meant that the next baby was one, too). Good thing, because the cord was wrapped around her neck, so she might not have made it.

Instead of being born on my birthday, she came home from the hospital on my birthday, and I couldn’t wait to peek in the bundle of blankets to see her. She was the best birthday present I ever had.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before:

It’s 35 degrees outside, dark enough that I have the lights on, and it’s pouring. The cats and I are huddled by the heater, the girls in their fur coats and me in two unmatching sweaters. The calendar claims it’s May, but I think there’s been a mix-up somewhere. Or I’ve somehow found myself in Early Narnia, where it’s always winter, but never Christmas.

Everyone is saying this is the coldest and rainiest spring they can remember. “Worst May ever” comes up a lot, and I’ve noticed people eyeing me askance as they make the connection between my moving to Hooterville and the increasing crapitude of the weather. If I don’t look out, I’ll get run out of town on a rainy rail. At least it will be too wet and windy for the tar and feathers to really stick.

Megan and I took a break yesterday to walk Schatzi briefly on the headlands. She looks almost normal when she walks, though she is undoubtedly wondering why we won’t let her off the leash and why the walks are so short. It’s three more weeks of leash duty, and Dr. Karen is going to check her again next week.

You will be relieved to hear that I obeyed the sign. Actually, I may have jinxed myself by observing to Megan that we are almost halfway through the year and I have managed not to damage myself so far. Finally, a New Year’s resolution that lasted beyond January!

It was a very low tide, so something smelled fishy, all right. Also there was a very loud Canada Goose honking his fool head off on one of the rocks. And I thought Canadians were so polite. Maybe he picked up some native ways during his visit.

We ambled amble a couple of errands in the village between rain showers. We got some blueberries and lettuce at the fledgling farmers’ market – there’s not that much available this early in the season – and attempted to get the ingredients for the magical soup, planning to make it for dinner last night. But there was no joy in Mudville, since there was also no chorizo. We grumpily made shepherd’s pie with ground turkey instead, and consoled ourselves with a “Sex and the City” marathon, just in time for the movie’s release next week, thoughtfully located between my birthday and Megan’s.

I feel a girls’ night out coming on.

Star meets squirrel

Well, today’s a bit of a set-back. Raining outside, heater on inside…sound familiar?

Maybe I should move to Hawaii. Or Bora Bora.

Yesterday, Star met a puddle while walking on the family property. You can tell that she was kept in most of the time in her former life, since puddles and other everyday things are clearly new to her. She thought the puddle splashes were attacking her, so she kept trying to catch them, chasing herself around and around in the water. It was hilarious. Eventually she settled down to drink some of the water, which is when she noticed that breathing while having her nose in water wasn’t a great idea.

Star is starting a new class today with a behaviorist, who will temperament test her and get her used to walking around in Mendocino, where there are cars, people, and other dogs for Star to meet. She will keep going to her class on Wednesdays, too, and we’re hoping that she’ll be ready for adoption in early June.

People keep asking if my sister will want to keep Star, and I keep telling them no. The point is to foster as many dogs as possible and find them good homes. She can only foster one at a time in her teeny, 400 square foot house, so If she keeps Star, she can’t foster another dog, and that means a dog who might have been saved won’t be. This is her mission in life.

I think the same qualities that made her a great EMT for nearly a decade are the same ones that make her a great foster parent. She has compassion for the patient/dog, but not enough to upset her when the job is done. She does her best for them, and then lets them get on with their lives with no regrets. We’ll be sorry to see Star go, but we’ll also be happy that she is a happy dog moving into a loving home. And we’ll welcome the next foster dog with open arms.

The good old days

First of all, the truly important news: Schatzi does not need multi-thousand dollar surgery!

[Pause while the crowd goes wild]

Thank you, thank you. Dr. Karen said we should keep her on the anti-inflammatory for another week, but continue giving her the Chinese herbs for another six weeks. We can start taking her for a 15 minute leash walk once a day on flat surfaces. She’s a very active and fit dog, not an ounce of fat on her, and I think this is the key to her youthful, Dick Clark-style vigor. She has hate-hate-hated being cooped up in the house and not allowed to run.

To add insult to injury, this happened pretty much the minute we got Star the foster dog. We take Star out for walks, but leave poor Schatzi at home, staring at us sadly as we drive away. There are few things worse than Schatzi’s patented Sad Eyes, my friend.

And of course this had to happen in the “summer”, instead of during the rainy season, when she would have been trapped in the house anyway.

But…not having to come up with thousands of dollars and having our beloved girl suffer through surgery and its aftermath is pretty much priceless. So is Dr. Karen, who didn’t charge Megan for checking Schatzi’s leg every week. Dr. Karen’s kindness extends to people, too. A couple of young men who drove with a friend from Montreal to San Francisco and then hitch-hiked here are staying at her house indefinitely, doing odd jobs and generally enjoying the scenery. She says now that they’ve stayed with her a few days, she doesn’t like the thought of them hitch-hiking anymore.

She has also had an intriguing offer to act as the vet for a nearby nature preserve which specializes in seriously endangered hoofed African animals, such as zebras and antelope. She’d be on call and examine the animals a couple of times a year. I had no idea that this place existed. Apparently zebras are pretty mean, prone to kicking and biting. When I expressed surprise at this, Dr. Karen pointed out that dealing with lions on a daily basis will do that to you. The zebras have to be sedated with a tranquilizer dart à la Wild Kingdom before they can be looked at. Megan said she’d go with her if she took the job. Wouldn’t that be cool?

In other good news, Megan and Monica raised $1,500 for Star and Shiloh at their fundraiser yesterday. They sold cupcakes and beautiful clothes donated by local merchants. Some people even made cash donations. Not bad for a day’s work! I love how this community rallies around and supports local causes.

Thud! Splat!

That was my head exploding and falling off. It’s raining yet again. I can’t remember it raining in May since the evil El Nino winter of 1996-1997, when it rained from September until May, and rained every single goddamn day in February. I worked in a cool old brick building in downtown San Francisco in those days, and the constant deluge took its toll. Rain came down the exposed brick walls, so I had to keep a plastic hood on my computer like a grandma protecting her fresh beauty shop ‘do, and I had no fewer than three wastebaskets collecting rain around my desk.

Sitting here in my sweater by the heater in May just seems wrong. I also have that east coast feeling of “Will winter ever end?” while simultaneously lamenting the fact that the lilacs have already bloomed and gone.

It takes a Suzy.

People have been asking me how June and Audrey are doing. They don’t actually accuse me of being a negligent cat doorman or dumping them in favor of doggier pastures, but I can read between the emailed lines.

Audrey catnaps on the balcony

The girls are doing fine. Since they now have the great outdoors, they’re a lot less destructive in the small indoors. They generally come in to eat or nap, though I have seen them napping outside from time to time. I was slightly surprised by that: I thought they went outside to play and hunt, but apparently they also use it to increase their living space, much as we do.

Excuse me, you interrupted my bath!

June spends more time inside than Audrey does. June sleeps with me most of the night, pinning down the covers so parts of my anatomy are exposed to the chill night air in her patented manner. Audrey’s in and out all night, though thanks to Rob, I’m no longer the night watchman.

It’s funny how when I first moved, I thought I could bring them in at dinner time and that would be it for the night. In retrospect, I find this hilarious.

I visit Henry at least once a week. She’s safe and cozy under the chinkapin tree. I always bring her flowers and fill her in on the latest news. I miss her so much. She was such good company. I wish we’d had more time together, though as Rob says, it’s never enough time.

Star went to her first obedience class on Wednesday. She was fearful of strangers, barked at kids, and it was generally a somewhat depressing experience. I was surprised, since she adapted so quickly to us and is so friendly and affectionate with us. She’ll go every week and hopefully will improve. We have to get her properly trained and socialized before we can even hope to find a family for her.

Schatzi seems to be doing better. Dr. Karen thought so, and will have another look at her on Friday. Keeping her still is a real challenge. I took care of her yesterday while Megan taught a CPR class, and she followed me everywhere. Finally she settled down on the couch, but you can tell she’s really depressed at being kept inside all the time. A friend of Megan’s is giving her a sort of dog playpen so she can be out on the garden but not wandering around. I’m still hoping we can avoid surgery.

Schatzi in a field of clover

You know how when you go to the dentist, your tooth stops hurting? Well, Schatzi has her own variation on that. Within an hour of coming home from the vet last week, she was limping around the garden.

An investigation of her paw and leg showed former EMT Megan nothing, but when a couple of days had passed and the limpiness had not abated, it was time to go and see Dr. Karen yet again.

The verdict is that the Schatz has torn her ligament. She’ll be re-checked on Friday, and if it’s not better…it’ll cost $2,000 to fix it. So think good thoughts.

While Megan and Rob were getting the bad news, I was Star sitting. My idea of doing this was to sit in the sunny garden, painting my toenails, reading Vogue, and drinking the remains of a bottle of wine from my sister’s refrigerator. I’m not just the hostess with the leastest, I’m the sitter with the leastest. You have been warned if you ever ask me to baby-sit.

Star meandered around, sitting in sunny patches and occasionally asking for pets. She can’t be left alone because she freaks out, and has an unfortunate tendency to chase cats (also butterflies, birds, rabbits, lizards, and pretty much anything else ya got). Rob had to go in his truck to take Schatzi home after the vet, since Meg had to go on to a meeting about fundraising for Star and then, you know, her first twelve hour night shift of the week.

Earlier that day, my brother came across a dog wandering in the middle of the road, dazed, clearly having been hit by a car. He stopped, and was in the middle of examining the dog when another car stopped behind him. The driver offered to take the dog to Dr. Karen, and added that if the owner can’t be found, she’d be glad to keep her. Rob told me that he had seen the dog at the vet and she’s fine, thankfully.

The fundraising for Star and a rescued pit bull puppy, little Shiloh, is set for May 15. Since Monica is hosting and organizing it, there will be fabulous designer clothes and delicious cupcakes for sale. We’re hoping to set up a PayPal account soon, so that those of you who don’t live near us can still help out. Wish us luck!

Schatzi had an appointment at the vet, so Star and I went along for the ride.

It became immediately obvious how used I was to Schatzi’s inveterate good manners. She jumps into the back seat and stays there. She may stick her head out of the window for a power sniff, or whimper a little with excitement if she sees we’re going somewhere really good, but that’s about the worst you can say about her in the car. She never even barks when left alone. Bonus: you can leave your groceries with her and she won’t touch them.

Star, on the other hand, is wiggly and bouncy and keeps trying to get into the front seat, where she clearly thinks she belongs. I ended up putting my arm across the space between the two front seats, and she’d push against me and sometimes give me a kiss.

We weighed her at Dr. Karen’s, and if there had been a prize, I would have won it for guessing her weight correctly at 50 pounds. Her lack of fur on her belly and armpits is caused by distress licking, but Karen also said that the fur was growing back, so Star has stopped doing that since the fostering started.

Schatzi is completely perfect, other than her usual need for thyroid tablets. She’s in better shape than most dogs half her age, I’m happy to report.

During the time it took to get the two dogs checked out, a woman came in with a two month old blue-nose pit bull puppy who had fallen and needed an x-ray; a man dropped off a basket of strawberries for Dr. Karen; a woman picked up her dog who had an ear infection, scratched it, tore the cartilage, and had just had surgery; and I helped an elderly lady carry her aged cat to the car. The woman with the ear surgery patient had come all the way from Willits to see Dr. Karen. Never a dull moment in that office, even past closing time on a Friday afternoon.

Honestly, for a writer, you’d think I’d write more.

I seem to be reverting to my old habit of posting a couple of times a week. Maybe I’m running out of things to say after nine years of slingin’ nonsense. Maybe my capricious muselette is taking the vacation I can’t afford. Maybe I’m using all three brain cells on writing I get paid for.

Actually, it seems to be true that if I have writing assignments, I write less on my blog. Also that the more often I write my blog, the more often I write it. It’s like going to the gym: if you skip a couple of days, it’s easy to keep on skipping and finding excuses not to go.

All this is a long way of bragging that I have another article published in a magazine, though it’s not on-line yet. I really do find it thrilling to see my name in print.

I may be seeing my name in print again soon. I pitched the idea of writing a story about Star for the local paper, which also reported the sudden death of Star’s former owner. Amazingly, I heard back from the editor within half an hour, loving the idea. I told Monica about it, and within the hour, she had lined up an extremely talented photographer and artist to take pictures for the (as yet unwritten) article. So as soon as Star is ready for adoption, we’ll have a great audience for potential new homes.

I also pitched three ideas for web articles which were approved, so I’m feeling pretty good.

The good feeling inspired me to write a letter to P, who used to live on this property until her life got derailed a couple of years ago. My sister and I have heard news of her through the grapevine, and when we drove to Colusa, we saw a group of prisoners working by the side of the highway to clear up brush and other fire hazards. We both waved at the men, and they waved back. We agreed that it was a win-win, good for the men and for the state, since every Californian fears wildfires. Meg observed that P was part of one of these programs now, and we talked about her and promised each other we’d get back in touch. I hope she’ll be glad to hear from us.

The Star of the show

It was a beautiful, sunny day as Megan and I set off on our long journey.

First we drove to town, and then took Highway 20 for what seemed like the rest of our lives. For those of you who have never had the pleasure, it’s a road as curvacious as Jayne Mansfield, with the highs and lows of Judy Garland. You can’t drive fast on a road like that. It crests at 3,000 feet, which is why it can get snow and black ice during the winter. The view from the top is quite spectacular, though.

The road winds through farmland, with sheep and cows dotting the steep hills. There are groves of almond trees with wildflowers carpeting the grass so it looks like drifts of snow. Fields of mustard blaze beside snow-capped mountains, tended by weary migrant workers. Orange poppies and blue lupines grow wild by the side of the road.

Mustard fields and snowy mountains

We passed through several little towns on the shore of Clear Lake, which is the oldest lake in the entire US of A. Mount Kenocti, an extinct (let’s hope!) volcano presides over its 100 mile shoreline:

My favorite town was Lucerne. I’d love to rent one of the little old fashioned cottages on the lake for a weekend.

Lucerne

We were trapped behind a truck for 50 miles or so. It was amazing to me that a professional driver wouldn’t pull over for a caravan of cars behind him, considering there were multiple signs saying that slower traffic must pull over and plenty of pullouts for him to use. He was just a jackass. When we finally reached a place we could pass him, I flipped him off as we zoomed past. I know you think of me as a refined, gently-bred lady, but it had to be done. It was that, or a drive-by shooting.

Needless to say, this made us late for meeting Ray, and in the usual way of local highways (two lane roads) around here, there was no cell service, so we couldn’t call him. When we finally got to Colusa, it was about noon, and we had left the house at 8:30.

Colusa is a lovely town, settled in 1850, with charming Victorian houses, tree-lined streets, a historic courthouse (built in 1861 and the oldest remaining in the Sacramento Valley), a Carnegie Library dating to 1905, and cute shops. It has a very southern feel to it, and I would like to have explored it more.

We met up with Ray outside the cafe. He was quite the character: enormous, with a ZZ Top beard and long grey hair straggling from the lower half of his bald head. He had two tiny brown teeth left, one up and one down, and it was hard for this refined, gently-bred lady not to stare. Shaving was very optional for him. Hygiene….not his forte. He managed to extract himself from the car and lumber over to a nearby park with Star.

We had been told that Star was nervous, shy, and afraid of the outside. She happily went with Meg on the leash, bounded all over the grass, and licked our faces. During the walk, it became clear that she has never been trained and has no manners at all. But she’s the total opposite of her description. When the time came, she jumped right into our car and settled down on the blanket.

All was peaceful on the long ride home until we stopped at the lights in Willits. Two boys went by on skateboards, and she went bananas, barking her head off. We hastily closed all the windows, but the kids didn’t seem to notice. Note to self: Star is not a big fan of skateboards. Good thing there are no sidewalks in Hooterville.

Hooterville had never looked so beautiful to either of us as it did that evening. We both sighed with happiness as we crossed the wooden bridge and caught sight of the village. Amazingly, we saw no fewer than eight CHP officers, but didn’t get a ticket. I credit Megan’s incredible ability to spot them, which may be related to her astonishing ability to flag down a cab anywhere, any time.

We reluctantly met Rob and Schatzi at the family property, so the two dogs could meet on neutral territory. It went pretty well, but Schatzi does not enjoy being bounced at or the crazy puppy energy, both of which Star has in spades. We’ll see if it works out for Meg to foster this dog long-term.

We finally got home at 6:30 that evening, 10 hours after we left. That was a lot of driving.

Fortunately, I had made chili the day before and always have Jiffy corn muffin mix on hand. We were exhausted, but it was fun to see a new part of this great state. And I always have fun with my sister.