All the men folk as well as the women

 Page 10.

All the men folk as well as the women loved Granny and some but not all even preferring her to Myra’s company? Granny was kind and generous and watched over things. You just felt safe and secure when you were around Granny and there wasn’t anything you couldn’t talk about with her. There didn’t seem to be anything worth knowing that Granny didn’t know about and she always gave you her greatest gift which was her time and full attention. She asked Myra to keep her nudity in private reminding her of the presence of children as well as using the Lords name in vain during her nightly hoot owl calling and moaning sessions. Granny lost her husband the late great General Horace McBride ten years ago after he was killed defending her honor. Granny evened the score after the killer of her husbands privates became the main course for a hungry beaded lizard who mistook the organ for a rat? Granny never acted her age, she was high spirited, open-minded and would cuss a blue streak when she found it necessary. She almost shot Lorenzo for fooling with Doris but she couldn’t find her blunderbuss she kept under the seat of her wagon fast enough.

Granny tended to Lorenzo after Doris made her point and she helped him understand the dangers of alcohol to his well-being. She told Lorenzo the creatures of this earth where to be respected and cherished and not used for sport. Lorenzo felt ashamed and foolish and made a promise of Granny he would change his careless ways. It seemed that Granny was really the only person in the party that Miller steered clear of. Granny was the force that guided the party and later she would be the one person that would lead them to safety. The shelter was beginning to take shape as the men lashed and tied freshly cut logs together. The logs formed a long narrow square approximately six feet high with the walls constructed of pieces of boards, long wagon planks and sheets of canvas. The woman and children stuffed strips of rags and even small stones scraped from the snow to fill the cracks. The men laid branches of Ponderosa pine over the roof and covered the branches with any remaining canvas salvaged from the wagons. Two fire pits were made on either end of the shelter and folks started laying out areas for their beds.

Now completed the shelter was small and the quarters were cramped and cold but it was all they had and it had to do. Everyone in the party started to file in that is everyone but Potts Miller. That was alright with the folks sense there was barely enough room to stand let alone lay down. Granny tried to call Miller into the shelter but Miller wouldn’t listen. Granny told him he’d die if he didn’t come inside but Miller yelled back, “ you’re the one’s who are going to die”. Millers raving screams frightened the children and some folks remarked if that thing comes in here the stench alone will kill us all. Granny didn’t push the matter and secretly hoped a few well placed icicles would form on Millers private parts, however; she thought to herself it could convince Miller to come inside and surly this wasn’t what the rest of the party wanted. Once the fires were started inside the shelter the smoke was so thick you choked and couldn’t see beyond your hand so the roof was quickly vented and the white and grey smoke quickly cleared. The trick now was to prevent the now falling sheets of snow from smothering the fires as one nearly did until a solution was finally found.

Lorenzo defied Miller by covering his horses

 Page 9.

Lorenzo defied Miller by covering his horses with a length of canvas. The horses turned and looked toward Lorenzo who reached up and touched their foreheads and then gave each horse a sliver of dried apple he kept for such an occasion. This act of kindness infuriated Miller who raised his tomahawk at Lorenzo and cursed at him screaming, “ You’ll be my first Spanish Bullfighter”. Lorenzo replied with his own quick wit telling Miller where the group believed he was born and the name they used while answering the call of nature. A brown gooey slime started to run from Miller’s mouth and suddenly he began to choke. Miller coughed and gagged as his putrid breath turned to a yellow colored steam. The yellow steam made Miller’s face glow like a fresh meadow muffin or a just planted road apple. “ I hope your not dinning on outhouse leftovers tonight”, laughed Lorenzo as he watched Miller crawl back into his wagon like a spider and quickly disappear. A small smoky fire began to light up the approaching evening as the entire party with the exception of Miller gathered together.

While the children stood closes to the fire for warmth the group held hands and circled the fire with their heads bowed in prayer. As Lorenzo joined them they all recited out loud, “ In the name of Jesus, we believe in the goodness of God, the Lord will clear our way”. Sparks from the fire spit and crackled shooting high into the silent evening sky as silver slivers of thick grey smoke streamed skyward and spiraled into the darkness in all directions. Without warning a bolt of lighting exploded near a snow covered granite mountain top followed by a thunderous boom. The blast spooked Coffee who tried to bust through the newly constructed corral catching her leg between a wagon wheel. Lorenzo rushed toward the terrified cow as her big brown eyes bugged out like two small moons. Freeing her leg that appeared uninjured Lorenzo moved Coffee next to Doris and she seemed to settle down right away. Coffee belonged to the oldest member of the party and Coffee was no spring chicken.

Granny McBride owned Coffee and she was a slight of  body woman with a dark complexion and long silver hair. Granny’s eyes were as blue as the Kansas City sky in spring and she still had all her teeth. Granny told everyone she wanted to join her son in California who had left her money to do so when she was ready. She was a very agile woman for her age and smoked a pipe when she couldn’t get cigars that were her favorite. She would smoke cigars down to the nub then chew them up while still lit blowing the smoke out of her nose. Granny told everyone her mother was a Indian princess and her father was a grizzly bear. Her body was rock hard and she handled a team of horses like a muleskinner. Her small hands were elegant and youthful as well as her mind and soul but she was tough as buffalo leather wearing her hair fashioned in the style of Indian braids intertwined with turquoise beads. While on the trail Granny wore buckskin bridges and black pointy toed boots. She also wore a woolen vast made from a Indian blanket with a inside pocket where she kept a silver flask.

If it had not been for a small group of men

Page 8.

If it had not been for a small group of men folk lined up outside of Myra’s wagon there’s no telling what may have happen. A devil fart Myra would call him claiming Miller was born at the bottom of a dirty out house. From that day on anyone who felt the need to break wind it was then often referred to as a act of a big Miller, it always made folks laugh a lot. On one such occasion after answering the call to nature behind her parents wagon, four year old Sarah Margaret Bentley told her mother she relieved herself of one big Miller and two baby Millers on top of some blue flowers. Well those were the times when things were lighter and everyone’s spirits were high with the pending bad weather just a few months away at this time it wasn‘t a problem. But now the reality of life or death hung over our travelers like a poison gas. On this trip planning or thinking ahead was not given the priority it should have been. Many things were left for chance or luck with these first timers and this way of thinking could cost you your life. When that moment of futility come to rest in the minds of the party everyone looked to Gerald Higgins of answers and direction.

Higgins felt building one main shelter was their only hope and directed everyone to circle the wagons as a makeshift corral for the stock. It was lightly snowing now and the wind had subsided for the time being, but it was still bitterly cold and your hands froze to everything you touched. Higgins never told the others he was warned not to try this crossing so late into the spring season. Local folks in town suggested waiting until next year and advised him to travel with a larger group and not the small ragtag band he had assembled . Higgins knew they were the last group to leave for the promise land and there would be no others before them or after and the thought of the Donner party never left his mind. Higgins was hired on as a experienced guide and bragged he could lead the devil himself back to hell from heaven with the promise of a bucket of ice water. For now, the only good thing Higgins had to offer was Myra and she didn’t come cheap. Some the men fanned out and collected as many fallen branches and useable timber as the could carry to be used accordingly. Meanwhile the children and the womenfolk scratched out a area in the chilling cold snow forming a foundation for the makeshift shelter.

They uncovered dozens of round granite rocks and large stones and stacked them together to form a fire pit for warmth and cooking. Any piece of wood, loose board and spare canvas from the wagons were gig sawed together. The men returned with whatever they could find while others chopped and sawed down some smaller trees for a makeshift lean-to. Everything was lashed together with ropes and strips of canvas and leather. They worked as long as they could but their strength was weaken by the high altitude and thin freezing air. As dark colored storm clouds started to form about a mile west of their location Lorenzo took charge of the stock consisting of twenty horses, four oxen, and cow named “Coffee” and of course Doris. Millers team wasn’t counted and he refused to corral them with the other stock hissing to anyone that would listening, “They’ll stay hitched until I unhitch them”.  Lorenzo wanted to horsewhip Potts, but Higgins stopped him making the case they needed Miller now, however; Higgins could not have been more wrong as the next few days ahead would tell.

Myra earned a reputation in town

 Page 7.

Myra earned a reputation in town from some hard cases with bellies full of John Barleycorn that she as hotter then a cat house on nickel night but everyone knew nickel night always cost a dollar. Before winter hit and the weather was good Myra bared herself to all present by bathing naked in a cold mountain stream. Her naked and wet body was statuesque’s and it glistened like Italian marble exciting even the most prudish onlookers. On her back just below her right shoulder was a tattoo of a red and yellow dragon breathing fire. Her long black and brown hair barely covered her breasts as some men stood transfixed fighting those unbearable thoughts of lust and desire. Myra was her own woman and she used her sexuality as a powerful tool. She knew what she wanted and knew how to get it and more importantly she knew how to control it.  Her beauty was deceptively enticing tempting even the strongest bible thumper’s pure inner soul as well as good will with thoughts of bodily pleasures. Some of the women on the trail weren’t as open minded or as tolerant wanting to banish Myra and send her packing.

Myra was also known throughout the group as moaning Myra because of her popularity with the men folk. This behavior seemed to happen mostly at night and some of the younger children asked Myra if she was sick and offered her some herbal medicine. One little boy thought Myra was calling wild animals at night so five year old Brian Shanky told Myra she should be careful calling hoot owls from inside her wagon because one may fly in with her flaps up? The behavior seemed to place a barrier between Myra and the other women who called her a shameless and soil dove. This only seemed to encourage Myra who would openly advertise her wares hanging up her corsets on the outside of her wagon to dry. She often stopped some of the men as they passed her wagon pointing out her frilly lingerie explaining they were sent from Paris, France. Myra stopped this practice after some of her Paris bought frills turned up missing and rumors had it some of the women borrowed them to keep their own men wagon kept but it didn’t last long.

Another claim circulating in the camp reported Miller was spotted wearing one of Myra’s man traps as he entered his wagon late one evening but this rumor could not be confirmed. Some of the men claimed Myra’s moans where just sweet lullaby’s that reminded them of being rocked in their cradles as babes. John Jacob Adams a self appointed man of the cloth in the travelers said he though Myra was singing church hymns and he was going to teach her everyone he knew. When Mrs. Adams got wind of this she reminded her husband about everything she knew about livestock castration. Others commented that Myra was a accomplished vocalist and could sing in any opera. It seemed Potts Miller took a shine to Myra who would hold her nose when anyone spoke his name. Myra once said she would rather swallow a live crawdad with a case of the scoots than to be in the same room with Miller. For whatever reason Miller was once found on a moonlit night lurking near Myra’s wagon, perhaps he wanted to hear some of Myra’s lullaby’s himself but no one really knew.

Is that how they fight them in Spain

 Page 6.

Is that how they fight them in Spain, someone shouted from behind a wagon nearby? A small crowd surrounded Lorenzo and a few of the younger men carried him off far from where the remaining whiskey was kept and assisted in setting him up in a wagon with a large snowball pressed against his forehead. It was now late November making travel almost impossible and the snowfall was constant with unmerciful wind blown snowdrifts covering the group everyday. Word finally passed between the travelers to construct any type of shelter strong enough to get through the winter. Folks panicked and a couple from Kansas tried to walk out into the white ibis only never to seen again. At least that’s what Potts Miller told the rest of the party who claimed he told them not to try it but they were white with fear so they continued on. Benjamin and Katie O”Neil were a handsome couple filled with new hopes and envisioned a joyous future in California. They didn’t seem to mind being the second to the last wagon knowing Miller followed close behind them. They had a small brown dog named, “Possible” and he left his droppings knowing were Miller would step. 

There were a lot of critters on the trail with the group but this small dog had a mind of his own. Everybody on the train called the white colored dog “Posse” for short and before the snows started in fall Posse scared off a grizzly bear that had it’s sights set on Doris. After the incident Posse and Doris were inseparable with Doris even allowing Posse to jump up on her back and ride for miles. Posse was the joy that seemed to help the group endure some of the hardships so when Posse and the O’Neil’s disappeared there was a great deal of sadness throughout the camp. Doris stopped eating for a time and stood out in the freezing snows calling out late into the night to a lost friend that never returned. Gerald Higgins tried to remain calm in front of the group knowing deep inside his soul they were all doomed. This being his first trip to that land of milk and honey this tiny band of just twenty folks lay heavy on his mind. Now that the O’Neil’s and Posse were missing and presumed dead two others couples were now set to throwing the dice to turn and head back. 

The frightened travelers shouted at Higgins and some of them even cursed at him in front of their children. “We elected you to get us through these mountains”, yelled one man clutching a blue scarf around his neck. Higgins shouted back fearing it was a long shot at best and sensing the worse,  “ we’ll just have to wait out the winter”.  We’ll end up just like the Donner’s someone screamed from the group causing some mothers to weep uncontrollably. “ Were short on provisions and our stock won’t make it”, yelled out Myra St. Clair a close friend and traveling companion of Higgins. Higgins was a merchant before turning trail blazer and Myra helped him hawk his wares. Myra was a beautiful woman with a hourglass figure and a face like a angel. Her long silky hair was jet black with shades of amber brown and her light green eye’s were warm and inviting. She helped Higgins back in Kansas where the journey began and insisted at organizing the trip. Rumors had it Myra once worked as a saloon girl and for a price would serve more that just whiskey to anyone with the money.

Lorenzo was gentlemen

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Lorenzo was gentlemen but sometimes liquor got him into trouble bringing out a less than honorable side of his personality. When he walked he took long direct strides, with his eye’s fixed forward it appeared he was fighting an imagery bull. His hands and feet were enormous and for some unknown reason that part of his anatomy was a frequent topic of discussion among most of the womenfolk, married or not? Some of the children said he looked like a crane trying to ice skate with snow shoes, while the men reported he may have sat on something very pointed or sharp sometime in his lifetime. But Lorenzo insisted his walking style was the result of an encounter with a difficult bull and he had many encounters.? At the beginning of the journey before the winter’s cold, he never wore a shirt so everyone could see a circle shaped scar near his right shoulder. He also had one of the men during a heavy night of drinking carve a small cross into his left bicep with a green river skinning knife two weeks into the journey. Lorenzo bragged that should they come across any natives of hostile Indians they would surely be impressed with his customized body work.

This unneeded drunken backwoods surgical procedure however immediately became infected swelling up Lorenzo’s arm the size of a tree trunk. He spent almost a week in the back of a wagon nursing the infected arm back to normal but not without nearly losing the limb. If it had not been for Granny the appointed doctor of the group who attended to the young man’s arm he came very close to joining becoming just another losing bull in the ring. After recovering from his ills Lorenzo paraded around the party displaying his new homemade cross as well as the mark from the bull. The scar from the bull looked like Lorenzo had been gorged near his upper right shoulder, however; the scar ran completely through to the other side . Some folks wondered if Lorenzo was facing the bull when injured or had he turned tail and run? The real answer could probably be found on his backside but no one really wanted to ask or know except perhaps the womenfolk. Lorenzo said he killed the bull that marked him with a sword made from Spanish steel and had a tobacco pouch made from the dead bull’s manhood?

On evening after stealing a bottle of whisky used to treat ills and sickness over the long journey, Lorenzo attempted to reenact what he called a show down with the bull. The bull in this case was Jessie Parson’s mule named Doris. Doris was more of an companion then a beast of burden and she was a gentle and affectionate creature. Lorenzo rushed at Doris staggering and bare-chested and in one hand he waved an old saddle blanket yelling out, Toro, Toro, Toro at the top of his lungs. In the other hand he pointed a stick at Doris pretending to be a sword. Doris remained steady as if understanding Lorenzo’s inebriated condition but her whiteners started to twitch indicating she’d had enough. Doris was not in the very least impressed with Lorenzo’s drunken challenges and advancements and with one swift kick she ended the spectacle in short order. Luckily, Lorenzo suffered only a broken rib and a grazed forehead but swore he wanted a rematch after he recovered from his injuries. But Doris stood her ground and whinnied loudly excepting the challenge by stamping her hooves sharply into the snow.

Gerald Higgins was the guide of the party

 Page 4.

Gerald Higgins was the guide of the party and once while making fun of Potts he spoke  loud enough for anyone within ear shot to hear, “ looks like an old pig farmer lost one of his marked hogs”. Miller overheard the remark and some of the folks standing close by laughed out loud right in front of him. Miller quickly pulled his hat down over his ears and looked directly at Higgins who suddenly stopped grinning and started to turn a brighter shade of red even in the freezing cold. Miller didn’t say a word as a chilling wind rushed by both men, but you could hear Miller’s rotting teeth start to grind and crack. His leathery skin became to buckle but his eye’s where  two black empty pools of stillness like the darkness of early dawn. Since Miller didn’t talk much the party was real surprised when he spoke up voicing his opinion so as onlookers began to move on so he quickly  said to Higgins still red faced, “ We’ll see who’s ears are notched, pig farmer”! Millers hissing voice carried a deep tone that seem to echo and bounce throughout those still nearby and it filled their heart’s with a anxious fear.

This being said Potts sure was vocal enough about the decision of starting the journey west from the very beginning. He convinced the group not to listen to the local Indians about getting trapped in the winter snows that late in the fall and assured everyone he knew a safe and easy way through the mountains. Even when the wagons began the move west at the beginning of their journey the local Indians laughed at the departing pioneers calling out you will die in those cold mountains. Millers bragged he knew the way and was not about to stop just because of a little snow and a couple of mountains that lay ahead of them. “Paradise lies just over those mountains”, he called out to the party. “I’ve been there and I know what’s waiting for us”? That evening the snow stopped briefly giving the party just enough time at pull together and start a large cooking fire. Supplies were beginning to dwindle and folks were starting to worry. You were beginning to hear couples arguing between themselves and mothers tended to cold and crying children and it seemed the crying never stopped. Folks started fighting over droppings left by their animals and  there as even talk that some mixed manure to fresh feed to make it last longer.

The distant howling of timber wolfs throughout the trip was nonstop  but now their soul stirring cries seemed closeer and closer as the days went on. This continuous cold and freezing wind burned away any desire of making it through the mountains even from the strongest members. It became apparent to everyone there wasn’t a choice but only to continue on or freeze to death. So far all the members of the party where accounted for  and uninjured with the exception of Lorenzo Jose Delingo. Lorenzo a Spaniard told everyone who would listen he was a famous matador in his country. Lorenzo was tall and slender and his dark brown hair was shoulder length with he kept  tied in a pony tail most of the time. He sported a thin mustache and wore a large gold earring in one ear. Sometimes when he drank he would put the earring in his nose pretending to be a bull. He also wore a silver medallion around his neck shape like a Toro he said his Madre from Spain gave him as a child and he cherished it.

Millers drove a rig that looked like anyone’s

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Millers drove a rig that looked like anyone’s else’s but it had a real funny putrid smell and Potts told everyone to stay away from his goods? Even his team to two sleek draft horses looked nervous and spooky sensing they were pulling a wagon with something evil inside. Flaps on the wagon were always pulled tight and Miller entered it like a bat returning to a dark cave after a evening hunt. Before the winter snows came thousand of flies sometimes covered the outside of the wagon. You could hear their buzzing sound some thirty feet away so folks started calling it a road apple on wheels. Miller always followed the wagon train in the dead last position and preferred it that way and so did everyone else. Most of the time a large trail of dust followed the back of the wagon train giving Potts a much needed dust bath because dirt was better than nothing.  Folks didn’t mind but whispering talk between them was Potts acted more like a lone wolf waiting for the opportunity to attack any unsuspecting stragglers. His head and neck moved viper like with the patience of a black widow spider and watching Potts you could almost imagine a shiny forked tongue flicking out tasting and sensing all around you.

He wasn’t a man to be trusted if in fact he was a man at all and his ways weren’t like normal folks but they were tolerated one rule you quickly learned immediately on this journey. In order to survive you needed to remain together, but getting along and liking each other didn’t seem so important now. The winter storms were becoming worse and some of the folks wanted to turn back but the majority of the group refused and they focused their lives on what lay ahead of them. The snows were getting deeper and the party could only move five miles on a average day. Finding a way over those formidable mountains that looked like they went on forever was starting to give everyone a very hopeless feeling. Now Potts was a short man of stature with a thick neck and a light claw mark across his chin and nose. His face was fully pockmarked resembling the wrath of an angry woodpecker with cheeks and a nose covered in blackheads the size of green pepper corns. He parted his hair in the middle but it took on the appearance of the tail end of a skunk, and with one foot bigger than the other after a episode with frostbite he walked with a limp.

Potts back was swayed and somewhat hunched over and he wore a bear skin coat he claimed he found on a dead Ute Indian Chief ? The coat was decorated with deer bones and tail feathers from a red shafted flicker. The feathers were arranged in a fan pattern in the front with the back or the coat forming a pair of wings. Finishing off with bear claws hanging from the collar the deer bones made a clicking noise alerting everyone that Miller was coming. Potts carried no gun but was always armed with a Indian tomahawk tied to his waist and tipped with a rattlesnake tail. Sometimes at night you could hear the rattle buzzing from inside Millers wagon almost as if the snake itself was alive. With a wispy silver beard that barely covered his chin they matched the few teeth he had stained in  yellow and speckled black with rot and decay. He worn a English bowler hat and kept it pulled down tightly over his ears. Occasionally it rode up exposing his right ear which was notched with a circle shape. Some folks believed someone took a bite out of it or maybe a bullet or a arrow that missed it mark.

THE HORROR OF CANNIBAL CANYON

THE HORROR OF CANNIBAL CANYON

BY LARRY J. DELLINGES

The year was 1848 just two years after the terrible tragedy that occurred in the unforgiving and mysterious mountains of California’s High Sierra’s. Of course I’m referring to the historically ill-fated journey known to all as the Donner Party. Sadly in those days as well as the present many lives where taken and extinguished by the forces of Mother Nature and just as many spared. Those poor innocent souls trapped in the freezing snow without food or water was unthinkable, but to resort to consuming human flesh with no other choices for survival is a another matter indeed. One of which I hope none of us will ever have to face in our lifetime. Having family members as dinner guests with the Donner party on that journey took on an entirely different meaning to the phrase, what’s for dinner? One unknown surviving member by the name of Potts Miller knew ever so well from experience what it was like more so than others. You see Potts Miller was one of the original eighty-four souls of that condemned Donner Party, but for soulless Miller this second trip was a vacation in the snow offering an unlimited variety of all you can eat?

Coined with the handle Potts due to a moon crater complexion, Miller had a gruesome secret only his victims could tell that is if they were alive to tell it. But on this journey west Miller was back again, back to his demonic and ghoulish ways of murder and terror. Party members wouldn’t cross his path and most of the children hid in their wagons when Miller was near. One little girl on the journey called him Mister Cow Patty, telling her Mother he looked and smelled just like one? When Miller overheard the child’s comment he stuck out his long scarred purplish tongue at her and started to howl like what only could be described as a creature from hell. Always trying to outdo himself sometimes Miller would catch a handful of flies and pull them in his mouth. And while finding a child staring at him as they often did, he’d open his mouth allowing any live ones to escape with their lives. And for those flies that did it appeared like Miller’s rotting teeth where flying right out of his mouth. 

Most of the time very few flies survived this ordeal, not even the big ones, so Miller would swallow them whole making a gulping sound like a flat bottomed Tandy Toad or a stump broken mare sucking wind? Sometimes he would blow flies out of his nose telling anyone who was watching he had a nest of them living in his skull? Everyone knew what flies were attracted to and especially what they dined on so the name Mister Cow Patty hit right on the mark. All the young children on the trip were closely guarded from the likes of Potts Miller by the rest of the party. No one knew where Miller had come from or even when or where he joined the wagon train. He just suddenly appeared bringing with him a red stain of chilling terror that would never be erased from anyone’s memory from present time to eternity. Anyway somehow it seemed to everyone in an uneasy way he was watching them, counting each party member as if they were his private stock of butchering hogs destined to the slaughter house.    To be continued!

The Ghost Cat of Sanchez Adobe

The Ghost Cat of Sanchez Adobe. Having lived in Pacifica for several years I drove past the historic Sanchez Adobe Historic site to and from work throughout the week. Built in 1842 by Francisco Sanchez when California was still part of Mexico, Sanchez lead the failed Mexican Military response to the California Republic Insurrection in 1846. His body now lies in Mission Dolores Cemetery in  San Francisco if interested. I’ve never attended a tour of the adobe which is well maintained by city volunteers but frequently saw them guiding group’s as they toured the grounds. With Linda Mar Pet Hospital just a stones throw away it became a steady stop for me and often I would look over at the adobe building and imagine it’s original occupants farming and ranching the area. One day something caught my eye as I drove past that morning, sitting inside one of the upstairs windows appeared a large orange cat. I didn’t give it much thought thinking to myself it’s probably just a stray living on site and cared for by one of the volunteers. As day’s past I saw it again, this time on the roof of the adobe just sitting there almost stoic as if waiting for something or someone?

First thing Saturday morning a received a call to meet with one of the caretakers at Sanchez Adobe. A stray cat had been hanging around the building for weeks and befriended the staff. Posters and fliers where posted but no owner came forward and they requested we pick the animal up. Surly, I thought this must be the cat I’ve been seeing over the months as I pulled into their parking lot. When the caretaker handed me a sweet brown female tabby I was surprised. “What about the orange tabby?”, I said after securing the animal to the inside of my truck. “What orange tabby?”, replied the man, looking somewhat puzzled. I explained to the man about the cat I’d seen in the window and on the roof and just yesterday walking the second story balcony? “I’ve worked here for years and I’ve never seen the cat your talking about, but if it’s inside the building I can’t have that”. Leaving a extra cat trap I carried to abate he problem I drove away and assured by the caretaker he’d call me back when the cat was captured. 

I’d almost forgotten about that orange tabby while returning home one evening but there it was sitting in the window looking right at me, so the next morning I called the caretaker for a update. “Officer”, he said, “ I’ve searched the building from top to bottom and checked the grounds thoroughly, but I just can’t find the cat your talking about”. I wasn’t surprised knowing how difficult it can be if a cat doesn’t want to be found so I didn’t mention I just saw the cat the day before and mentioned I‘ll be by in the morning to pick up my trap. The following day I zipped by grabbed the trap and continued my day running from call to call and emergency to emergency. Finally my shift was over and had time to rearranging some items in my truck. Moving the trap used at adobe to make more room for another something slid out and landed on the ground. It was an old Daguerreotype, an early ninetieth century photograph of the Sanchez family. Seated proudly on the lap of a young girl was a orange cat identical to the one I’d been seeing.

Coincidence? Maybe, with orange tabby’s by the millions it’s possible or perhaps an elaborate hoax perpetrated by the caretaker?  Or could this cat be the spirit of a Ohlone Chief or Medicine Man, after all Sanchez adobe was built on a Ohlone Indian village. But what was written in Spanish on the back of the photograph sent a mysterious message, “ My cat will live on forever’, Rosa Sanchez, dated 1846. So if you happen to visit Sanchez adobe sometime in the future don’t forget to look into the upstairs windows, you may find a ghostly orange colored feline staring right at you!

Little Herman don‘t play that?

Little Herman don‘t play that? Moving into our new home in Redwood City and discovering a young family living in our garden shed was one thing but then they relocated about a month later I thought my troubles were over? It wasn’t long before I began to detect the odor of skunk emitting from under our one hundred plus year old home. Then it dawned on me, was that what  my young Hispanic family was yelling about so early in the morning with words like “Mofeta” and “Diablo” and “Matar” translated to English meant, skunk, devil and kill! And then there were those goats they had with one in particular named,  “Maria”,  now I don’t speak Spanish but it sure sounded like the man of the family was always swearing while wearing a wooden clothespin on his nose when milking time came around every morning? They hadn’t been gone for a week when one afternoon while taking in some rays and enjoying a usual lunch of chips, cookies, diet coke  a couple of candy bars, I looked down at my feet.

There sat a little skunk munching on a couple of chips I dropped. Well this new addition to the household didn’t escaped the evil eye of our cat “Bitty” who at the time was probably planning another murder attempt on my life? She strolled up to the little skunk as if long lost bosom buddies and began to purr. I wasn’t concerned knowing Bitty who was currently vaccinated against rabies and the skunked looked healthy to me. What happened next did surprise me somewhat when Bitty and her new found friend curled up together and fell asleep under the backyard deck. My mind began to race, would Bitty share her murderous plans and ruthless ways with the skunk and enlist him in playing a role in my demise? After all being tripped down the front steps, pushed off the back porch and almost fried by a curling iron is pretty serious stuff and why would Bitty even think she needed help? I slowly got up and tiptoed into the house careful not to disturb these two who now decided eating was better than sleeping and quietly entered the house making a beeline to Bitty’s food bowl. 

I can’t encourage this kind of relationship develop under my own roof? With Bitty the brains of the outfit and now Little Herman the brawn and loaded to boot! Note: Sporting a flattop hairdo and a high forehead resembling Herman Munster this was the first name that came to mind? My wife didn’t seem bothered with the arrangement as long as Little Herman didn’t enter the bedroom like the goat did late one evening but I still had my doubts. “If he sprays in the house or on me he’s trapped and relocated”, I warned the wife fully knowing my word was law in my castle? Well, apparently Little Herman didn’t get the memo and it wasn’t long before he had his own food bowl and dog bed in the living room and his own private getaway under our bed? This went on without incident for the next couple of years until a highly intoxicated homeless person attempted to enter our backyard unannounced, underdressed and without Little Herman’s permission. The house next-door had been vacant for some time and it appeared to be a stopping over point or homeless hub for the local transits in the area and used as a stash house now and then.

They’d store their meager belongings under the back porch in the morning and return in the evening after a day of panhandling, shakedowns, robbing and stealing you know the under the radar and  everyday stuff? I don’t know if after a hard days work on a hot summer day a pie eyed three sheets to the wind homeless gent mistakenly wandered into the wrong yard but Little Herman less than tolerant of strangers unloaded on him. With three short blasts followed by a direct hit to the face this poor soul cleared a six foot fence in a single leap never to be seen again? It wasn’t until two weeks later I read in the Redwood City Police Blotter that a homeless man insisted to police that a  black and white haired midget sporting a flattop  pepper sprayed him and stole his money, beer and cigarettes?  Little Herman earned his keep that day even if he was just protecting his territory but hanging around Bitty for a couple of years you never know what secrets she shared?

Please wipe your Feet or Litter Pan Madness

Please wipe your Feet or Litter Pan Madness?  After being chased and successfully escaping a angry mother swan in Redwood Shores, I was just catching my breath when I was flagged down by a passing Police Officer and asked to follow him to a nearby residence. The officer told me he was conducing a welfare check on the man that lived just a couple of blocks away and who hadn’t been to work over the last several days. The man a mechanic as also in possession of several thousand dollars of company tools which was also a concern, however; the officer noticed numerous cats in the window and many of them appeared sick. As we parked in front I noticed the outside of the house was clean and maintained with a well manicured front yawn, but the drapes where drawn and the window sills were black with dead flies raising my concerns?

I knocked on the front door with no answer so the Officer and I walked to the back of the residence where the ground seem to move with a sea of cats and flies. The smell was overwhelming but we moved to the patio area and looked into the kitchen through the sliding glass doors. The floor was covered in cat feces at least 3 inches thick with a foot path leading to the refrigerator and the sink and in each corner were litter pans overflowing with several inches of cat feces. As I stood there I remembered receiving complaints from neighbors complaining about trespassing stray cats defecating in their yards and a strong odor in the area that no one could pinpoint at the time. Well, time was up and I found it? As the Officer and I went back to the front door and attempted to make contact, this time someone answered.

Standing there in his underwear stood a man about 40, the smell emitting from the house began to burn my eye’s so I backed up just to recover. Obtaining the man’s identification we explained why we were there and I asked the man how many cats were inside the house. He stopped for a second picked up a bottle of gin took and belt and said, “O”, about 25 or so give or take”. The man told me both he and his wife are renters and lived at the house for the last year and a half, he also mentioned at that time he only had 4 cats but things just kind of snowballed since then? Looking down at his feet I noticed he wasn’t at all careful on where he stepped with cakes of cats feces oozing between his toes? Oblivious to his surroundings he brought out a large bag with medication for the cats after I noticed some where suffering with upper respiratory  infections. The Officer notified the home owners who resided across the bay in Fremont and after updating them of the situation they were on there way.

I requested additional officers from our agency and had our dispatcher contact the Health Dept. along with Adult Protection Services for good measure. It wasn’t long before a crowd of city officials and the homeowners from Fremont all stood together in front of the house. The man now dressed? peered out from under the curtains as the homeowners wife knocked on the front door. Slowly the door opened but when that smell hit her nostrils she gagged and fell back into the arms of her gagging husband? This started a chain reaction of gagging which included the Health Dept. Officer who ran to his car and quickly put on a mask.  The man and his wife where immediately evicted on the spot after the owners husband walked through the house wearing a breathing device similar to what our Firefighters wear when dealing with hazardous materials or smoke filled rooms.

The man agreed to surrender 20 of his cats and was given 24 hours to vacate the premises and his wife who was working at the time but notified pulled up with a large U-Haul truck and together they started to pack. The homeowners wife took a swing at the wife and yelled at her something like, “ don’t bother to do the dishes”? The house was deemed a hazard unfit for human occupation and condemned by the Health Dept. I issued the man still barefoot and proud of it? citations for improper care and attention as well as additional violations. I also submitted a report to the District Attorney’s Office for prosecution regarding animal health and safety code violations. The man and his wife mentioned they would be gone by morning probably headed to Oregon as fast as they could and the wife commented, “that’s were good people and animal lovers are welcomed” ? The next day they were gone, however; some two weeks later I was requested to meet with the manager of U-Haul Rentals located in Belmont.

He mentioned his truck was discovered abandoned on 4th Ave. in San Mateo and he was shocked by what he found. Inside the truck lay several body parts and bare bones of cats that were eaten alive by five remaining survivors. I immediately impound the surviving animals and transported them to our shelter for medical attention and notified the forwarded a update report to the District Attorney’s Office regarding this latest information. I remembered the man mentioning the city in Oregon he was headed to so I notified their Sheriffs Dept. as well as the local Humane Society in that area, it was a long shot but you never know where a pair of rats might resurface. Months later I received a call from the Sheriff’s Dept. in Oregon and the Deputy told me, “we got your guy attempting to adopt a cat from a local animal shelter” .  The deputy continued, “both he and his wife are in custody and we are in the process of transporting them to our county jail, is the anything you’d like me to tell them” ?  Now I didn’t have to think very long for this one so I told the Deputy to tell them for me, “ don’t forget to wipe your feet before entering the your cell

Hughes Air West- The Top Banana in the West?

Hughes Air West- The Top Banana in the West? Grounded by a drunken Monkey?

It wasn’t long before I began to dread particular calls or to be more precise locations. I had many but for argument sake I’ll narrow it down to just three. The airport being one with High Schools a close second and the third none other than Bay Meadows Race Track because of my phobia of horses or livestock in general? On this morning I was just about to finish my forth donut while parked in the shade out in front of Rolling Pin Donut’s in San Bruno when my dispatcher who delighted in interrupting my mornings radioed the following, “ Larry, put down the donut and get your fat “Bleep” over to Hughes Air West, a monkey escaped from one of their jet’s holding area and is now loose inside the plane”. I’ve been to the airport numerous times for stray dogs on the runways, birds in the hangers, exotic mammals and reptiles and fish held in transit or left on the tarmac from all over the world it just like a regular Doctor Doolittle menagerie.

With security nothing like it is today (Kids, back then America was still a free country?) I met with San Francisco Airport Police and followed them to the jets location. Standing outside of the jet were several members of the cleaning crew angered over the shut down. One rather plus side women was the first to express her displeasure in the delay, “ there’s a gorilla in there, and he pulled my hair”. Another worker claimed the monkey grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and ran into the cockpit with them? Suddenly someone shouted, “There it is, look, look in the window”. Sure enough it was a monkey alright staring straight right at me like we were related? Yes, we did look a lot alike but I didn‘t need to hear this from the cleaning crew. Airport Security filled me in on the details and reported during a layover and in the process of  changing flights the primates shipping container fell from the ramp and opened allowing the monkey to escape. It then ran across two runways and into this jet while it was being serviced and cleaned. 

I know how ornery monkey’s can be when cornered and the closest I’ve ever come to handling one was perhaps an old girlfriend who will remain nameless? I had to show strength, put fear behind me, this was my time to shine so look out monkey, your going down? Before I entered the jet I readied myself for a real fight so with large net in hand and wearing a makeshift bee keepers hood like the ones uses on prisoners in jail when they spit at you. Anyway I know how monkey’s like to throw things especially when a chimpanzee hit my friend in the head with a apple once at the San Francisco Zoo. I climbed the steps and entered the jet and the first thing that little bastard did was throw a magazine at me followed by two empty shot bottles of bourbon. Great, I said to myself it’s been hitting the sauce and seeing double? and then came another magazine this one was torn in half followed by two more empties. “You little lush”,  I said aloud ducking for cover and hiding behind a seat. Before I could move a member of  Airport security slowly opened the cabin door, “Officer”, he said, “ we managed to contact the owner by phone in Hawaii, “Tootsie” is her name and she likes to drink”. I’m not a monkey expect but I did know Tootsie was a Woolly Monkey native of South America that tail of hers acted like another hand. 

Now I wish I could say Tootsie while under the influence of demon rum taxied down the runway and together we landed safely in Hawaii for a round or two of Maui Madness or Mai Tai’s but her tidy fame began to stagger as she reached for another libation from the hostess cart. Seizing the opportunity I charged forward catching Tootsie off guard now seated in first class eating a bag of chips.  Fully expecting a real donnybrook I was surprised when Tootsie reached up and took my hand and together we walked toward her sky carrier one of the security officers slid into the plane a little earlier. Carrying a extra bag of chips and two more shot’s with her tail she unlatched the door herself crawling inside and falling fast asleep. Well I brought the little Woolly back to the shelter for a thorough going over by our veterinarian and she spent the next few days in our recovery ward sleeping it off. It wasn’t long before she was put on another plane and safely reunited with her owners in Hawaii. About three weeks later I received a letter in the mail from Tootsie’s owners that included a photograph. There Tootsie sat on a white sandy beach dotted with palm trees and overlooking a sparkling lagoon. My furry friend was wearing a bright yellow bikini, matching sun hat and sipping on a ice cold coke. Now I can’t be sure that tail of hers wasn’t still holding one of those airline whiskey bottles, but hopefully her drinking days were over?

Lap dance on the overpass brings traffic to a standstill?

Lap dance on the overpass brings traffic to a standstill? A couple years back while kicked back in my lazy boy living the life of Riley, I thumbed through the San Mateo County Times , but there on the obituary page was a name I remembered. In just a few short sentences describing a persons entire existence on earth the article mentioned she was surrounded by her loving family and donated a sizeable sum to a children’s hospital and with equal amounts to the local humane society in memory of her dog “Tag“. It was the mid eighties and Regan was president, prior to taking office a bill passed by  congress forced many mental institutions to close. With the funds shut off patients with serious problems now roamed the streets in cities throughout the nation and this is just one of those stories. Cindy was an intelligent girl, a college graduate I later found out with a bright future ahead of her the possibilities were endless, but then out of nowhere she withdrew into a bout of deep depression that lead to hospitalization, homelessness, alcoholism  and drug addiction. Abandoned by her dysfunctional  family she found herself with limited options and often sold her body to feed her addictions. She wandered hopelessly from one end of the county to the other dancing at strip clubs and seedy bars turning tricks and shooting dope wherever she could find it. Our paths crossed one winter day when I was just leaving the shelter and as I approached the stop sign at Coyote Point Drive and No. Bayshore Blvd. out from a homeless encampment located under a overpass ran a black Scottish Terrier with a woman in hot pursuit. I hopped out of the van leashed the little guy and handed the leashed animal to the woman just as she ran up. “Tag, you bad boy”, she said scooping the dog up and into her arms, “you could have gotten killed”. The woman in her twenties pointed to a group of homeless standing over a small opened fire. The camp located under the Peninsula overpass was the only shelter these poor souls had for now. “I’m Cindy” she said, “Cindy Smith and this is my dog “Tag”, he doesn’t like it there”, she continued with the smell of alcohol on her breath, “ but it just going to have to do until some place better comes up”. If anyone ever needed a job to remind them how fortunate they are compared to the harshness of life no matter how deserving it was this was it. “ Pleased to meet you”, I said, “ be careful and you can keep the leash”.  As I drove off the ragtag group toasted the safe return of Tag lifting their beer cans skyward. Over the next month or so Tag was seen at night particularly by our graveyard officer roaming the shelter parking lot alone, perhaps drawn to the sound of other dogs or the smell of food. He was never caught and his black coat made him almost impossible to see blending into shadows and darken corners like a four legged ghost. One afternoon fueled by alcohol Cindy took center stage on the Peninsula Ave. overpass and as rush hour traffic crowded highway 101 in both directions Cindy stood naked on top of a creaky lawn chair accompanied by Tag who sat tied to the cyclone fence to watch his plastered mistress shimmy. Traffic came to a standstill as Cindy shook her booty doing the funky chicken, twist and shout, hey look out mama she’s putting it out? This of course attracted some unwanted attention and it wasn’t long before the police arrived, but with traffic so congested they had to park a block away just to reach her on foot. Now Cindy was a troubled soul and it was sad to see one of Gods creations exposing her womanly charms in this way. Numerous cars had pulled over on the shoulder of the freeway and held up score sheets with mostly being nine’s and above and a whole lot of tens while others waved dollar bills and whistled . There was a roar of jeers and boos when the police reached Cindy and they quickly covered her with a blanket. I reached Tag by using the spiral stair case used by pedestrians to climb to the overpass from below. About a week later Cindy now sober redeemed Tag from the shelter and mentioned to the front office staff her dancing day’s were over. She did stay long enough to autograph her picture posted on the front of the local paper and said she had enrolled in a new program she believed would turn her life around. It may have rained dollar bill’s that day and it’s been said you have to reach bottom before to can climb back up again but maybe on that day a greater power had seen enough.

Raccoon Road Rage?

Raccoon Road Rage? Wildlife has always been a big part of my job and the opportunity to play a role in anyway was  a honor. With a excellent Wildlife staff combined with  tiredness and devoted volunteers they can’t be thanked enough. But the day I met “Racer the Raccoon” probably not his real name but it works for the story? I wondered if people are really reincarnated to a animal of their choosing in the next world? Alright I’m getting a little Coast to Coast on you but here goes.  A citizen residing in Belmont rented a cat trap from our animal shelter in a effort to catch a feral tom cat he wished to be neutered, its safe to say it wasn’t a mutual agreement? With written instructions regarding the most successful methods and time periods to trap. In addition in bold letters it states not to trap at night with wildlife the most likely candidate. Our Belmont resident failed to comply resulting in a captured and very angry raccoon. Citizen Belmont was quick  to learn that setting the trap near his cable TV and telephone wires were just asking for trouble and Racer thanked him by pulling the cables in the trap and biting them into several small pieces. Racer also didn’t like color of the bed sheet Citizen Belmont used to cover the trap, probably preferring silk. To show his displeasure Racer pulled the entire sheet inside the trap and used it as a personal port a potty? When I got there little Racer was working real hard at chewing his way out of that trap poising a real threat of injuring himself, so I quickly transferred him into a transfer cage and off we went to be relocated. Now I’m not the smartest guy on earth and thank God there still are some out there which Praise Jesus saved me at times from additional embarrassment and ridicule, however; I guess all the water boarding I got in Catholic school taught me to listen? Sometimes? Prior to becoming a one man show my Field Training Officer drilled into my sponge brain  the importance of always carrying a spare set of keys. In the heat of the battle you lose concentration, become distracted and misplace or leave equipment behind or in this case lock yourself out of the vehicle. Well, Racer and I didn’t have to travel far before I located a terrific place to release him. High towering Oak and Pine tree’s dotted the landscape and a with green thick cover of Manzanita with their red branches twisted skyward. And not far off was a wall of ripe blackberries their thorny veins reaching over a slow running stream faintly babbling in the distance nearby, this was raccoon heaven. I stood for a moment and took in the scenery and a part of me wished for just a instance it was me that would be released into this paradise, when the cracking voice of my dispatcher broke the silence snapping me back to reality. With the engine still running to generate the air conditioning throughout the entire truck from cab to kennels I opened the passengers door and jotted down another call. Now my attentions turned to Racer who snarled and growled from inside the kennel compartment sensing pending freedom. I carefully lifted his transfer cage out and pointed it toward those beautiful blackberries and slid open the door. To my surprise Racer didn’t budge so I gave the cage a slight nudge and out he sprang directly into the cab of the truck. Leaping onto the dash I heard the trunk drop into gear and as it lurched toward violently causing the passengers door to slam shut. Now Racer panicked and jumped up against the passenger’s window and unwittingly locking the door?  Because I had the vehicles emergency break partially engaged the truck idled slowly forward until it came to a abrupt  stop with the help of a large fallen oak branch. With my spare key I opened the drivers side door and out jumped Racer but not before depositing last nights can of fancy feast he had for dinner onto the drivers seat. With no damage to the truck and just a mess of what appeared to be sockeye salmon to clean up I was thankful of what just transpired didn‘t end tragically. And as for Racer despite his overactive bowels? Well,  his first driving lesson wasn’t his finest hour but that’s one raccoon that may still have a future in racing?

You’ll put you eye out kid

You’ll put you eye out kid? Or PETA starts a food fight. It was late Spring and the birds were flying and the bees were buzzing but when a Hummingbird flew into a nationally known grocery chain outlet for a taste of sweet nectar things took a drastic turn. Birds of all species like to shop if they didn’t how do you explain the numerous requests for help from businesses of all types reporting there’s a bird in my store. In most cases the bird enters through the front door or a opened garage or skylight not to mention the residential fireplace but our little Hummer was attracted to fresh flowers and orchids displayed near the entrance. I met with the store manager a prim and proper school teacher type her hair worn in a beehive bun she snapped her fingers at me and said, “it’s about time”. This was not a good first impression to start our relationship but working with the public is an adventure? “I‘m Miss Stewart she said, “I‘m in charge of daily operations“. Quickly looking up she continued, “We have a dire situation here, our customers as well as my employees are at danger of losing their sight or being severely injured”? Just then the tiny bird flew up and buzzed Miss Stewarts hairdo causing her to instantly cover her eye’s and scream. “That’s it” she again screamed, “that beak, it’s a flying hat pin, did you bring a gun”?  I watched as the little guy fluttered off and disappeared out of sight in the back of the store about the size of Costco. I explained to Miss Stewart that Hummingbirds were far from dangerous and told her they must eat every hour just to survive. I asked her to have her staff monitor the bird which would eventually weaken allowing the opportunity to confine it in a box. Fortunately one of our Wildlife volunteers lived nearby so once contained I would immediately take it to her for a quick recovery. Miss Steward would hear none of this and armed herself with a broom. “I’ll take care of the matter myself”, she ruffed, and began to march to the back of the store in lockstep fashion. “All native birds are federally protected by law Miss Steward”, I said, raising my voice and using a stern tone.  “What would corporate headquarters think with you on the news being lead out in handcuffs”. Miss Steward stopped in her tracks and spun around like a top. “Your name and badge number Sir” her face flushed red and her mouth twitching in anger. Handing my card to Miss Steward who now was grinding and her teeth and double snapped both fingers. I said, “ now please call me when you’ve got him in a box”.  Out of nowhere here once again came Hummer apparently wanting a second go at Miss Steward’s bun. “I’ve had it”, she said and slammed the door to a office that read Manager. As I drove out of the mall I noticed a small band of protesters parked in front of a  pet shop that sold only fish. Some were sleeping on the sideway and covered with their signs while others held signs that read, “ Dolphins are really cool people, Please don‘t eat my Family?” and “ Hey Japan my Mother is a Sperm Whale, Stop Harpooning her?”. I waved at the group in agreement and continued to my next assignment. It wasn’t long before I was dispatched to return back to the grocery store. As I drove up there was Miss Steward standing next to a police officer and holding a small cardboard box. Miss Steward had a patch over her eye and was holding a large bag of ice on her head. My first thoughts were was she right? did little Hummer poke her in the eye? I noticed one of the protesters who held the “ My brother is a Sperm Whale” sign I had seen earlier was now sitting in the back of the patrol car. He was sticking his tongue out at Miss Steward and leaning forward to display his middle finger in her direction. The Officer handed me the box and said, “ Mister protester there caught our store manager attempting to swat at the bird with a broom and took issue. He hit her on the head with a cantaloupe and struck her in the eye with a grapefruit. “It’s all his fault Officer”, snapped Miss Steward as she pointed her chin at me and tightened her lips. “You can just take him to jail as well” she continued and turned away now lost in a in a endless chain of shopping carts. “Well, Miss Steward”, I replied, hoping she was still within hear shot, “sometimes the smallest of things cause the largest of problems.

Sister Mary Francis takes issue?

Sister Mary Francis takes issue? Raised a Roman Catholic and shaped by the heavy hand of the Sisters of the Holy Eucharist I respected the Church even with all the controversy, anyway I believe what's in your heart that really matters and doing almost 8 years of hard time at St. Elizabeth's Catholic School was not exactly a cake walk. Surviving 5 years as a alter boy in handcuffs while serving Mass would challenge anyone so when I was paroled in 1965 my parents immediately moved to Millbrae. Adjusting to public school was no easy feat and to say I suffered culture shock would be a understatement. So when I was dispatched to Mercy High School regarding a unknown animal in the Nun's rose garden I was prepared so I thought? Dispatch advised me to meet with Sister Mary Francis who was visually impaired ( kids, at one time it was known as blind), however; she mentioned to our dispatcher her hearing was excellent and would direct the Officer to the area in question. As I neared Mercy High thoughts ran through my head of days gone by when, while still in High School I dated a girl from Mercy. Her shoulder length red hair, blue eye's coupled with a beautiful smile we spent many a chaperoned evening honing our skills in witting and needlepoint over a candle lit parlor and flickering fireplace? But there she stood, Sister Mary Francis red tipped white can and all pacing near the entrance to the convent of what was originally the Kohl Tudor Mansion. "Good morning, Sister", I said, as she approached my opened vehicle door. "Careful of the door" I said, as she tapped it with her cane. "Did you say whore? young man", using the same tone of voice I heard will incarcerated at St. Elizabeth's? . "Heaven's no! Sister", I quickly answered, "I said door". Sister Mary Francis peered at me from over her dark wire rimmed glasses and lightly tapped me on the shoulder with her cane. "Well then follow me". Grabbing me by the collar she pulled me down a oak lined walkway that lead directly to a well maintained flower garden. "Over there she pointed, it's over there". I couldn't help but notice fresh deer tracks all over the garden area and under a large standing yellow rose stood a baby fawn. "Sister", I said, " Looks like you'll got a deer problem". " My rear is has a problem", she shouted swinging her cane and striking my shin with a crack. " Sister, please, that hurt", I cried out. "So now it's my skirt" she yelled attracting the attention of two other Nuns who now surrounded me. "What's your problem Buddy? one particularly stout Nun said as she pushed me toward a wall of thorny rose bushes. "Please Sister's, I was called out here regarding a animal in your garden. "And it appears we've found it " said the other who turned the garden hose on me. Running for cover I made it back to the truck with no further injuries but now my truck was surrounded by several more Nuns and they were rocking the truck shouting, "get out! get out". Suddenly this mob of black and white quickly cleared and there stood the parish priest. "Officer", he said, " please forgive Sister Mary Francis, she's been here 50 years and sometimes she's a handful". "Well, she's certainly well schooled with that cane", I replied. I recommended constructing a deer fence to abate the problem and drove away as Sister Mary Francis yelled out, "run you coward". I'll still keep that memory of my Mercy High redhead and to his day my needle point couldn't be better.

Before i could open the sack....

Before I could open the sack the tiny creature inside began to cry and I immediately recognized the sound. Quickly I untied the sack as a furry head emerged and at the same time I  cradled the golden pup in my arms. “It's her puppy”,  I yelled out in amazement wondering how she managed to survive the night all alone without her mother. It wasn't long before Mrs. Thompson arrived with some mashed up army stew and red eyed gravy and we both watched the tiny pup bolt down the fixings from a tin plate in an instant. I never knew how a pup could eat so fast as Mrs. Thompson fetched a bucket of fresh spring water and we laughed together watching the pup climb inside for a drink and a bath at the same time.  As I found comfort in this moment Mrs. Thompson's face began to appeared grim as she slowly walked away from one of the soldiers from scouting party sent out to find my father. I knew what that look meant having seen it from my own father's face at the time my mother passed but I had prepared myself knowing the life my father had lead would only come to a tragic end.  Before Mrs. Thompson could utter a work I told her I knew my father was dead and with all his faults the true feelings of sorrow and grieve grasped me by the throat making me speechless.

I tried not to cry but I couldn't control the racing thoughts of pain and sadness and what would I do now, all alone without any family in the middle of a hostile territory where the law as kill or be killed. Captain Thompson walked toward me with his pipe in hand joining his wife as she held me near while the rest of the soldiers stood silent sharing my loss. Each man approached me and offered their condolences but while still unable to speak I shook their hands one by one without a word being spoken. Just then one of the men shouted out pointing toward the southeast, “Captain, look”. Large gray and white streams of smoke began to rise from a nearby hilltop within two miles or so from the outpost. And then there was another just west from the first and while we all watched the smoke rising there came a third. It was obvious to all we were being surrounded as the men quickly secured the horses and prepared for an attack. I scooped up the puppy and headed for my quarters without a moment hesitation while Captain Thompson readied his men for a fight.

I had just bolted the door when a rifle shot rang out followed by the wicked screams of a group of charging Apaches on horseback. The soldiers returned fired killing one naked warrior painted blue as he launched a spear at Captain Thompson and missed. I watched from my window as Mrs. Thompson frantically attempted to pull me away but I was determined to stay but later I wished I had. Two more braves followed the first firing captured army pistols at anything that moved with one holding a spear and dragging something from behind his horse. Quickly he cut the line as both braves charged through the barracks and disappeared in the high chaparrals behind the fort and just as fast the fight was over. I pulled myself from Mrs.Thompson's grasp and ran toward the men who now surrounded what the Apaches had drugged in. One of the men ran up to stop me but he was too late, there was the body of the golden puppies mother. She had been dug up where I had buried her but this was not the most horrendous thing they had done, they had removed her head and sewn on the head of my father.

Bigfoot's kick up their kneels?

Bigfoot's kick up their kneels? It was late, cold and dark when I received a call to meet with the Sheriffs Department in Pescadero regarding a skunk in a vehicle? I knew the place, a Diner, Grocery & Bar located off of Stage Rd. and it was Friday night and a favorite spot for the locals. Now if you ever drive down the coast and look up into those hills, well there's some strange stuff up there? and every so often you'll come face to face with that strangeness. As I arrived on the scene I met with the deputy who pointed out three hairy creatures wearing overalls and bare foot looking inside the opened hood of a rusty ford pick up truck. The deputy mentioned these three Neanderthal's were kicked out of the bar when one tried to pick up a beer mug with his toes. To make matters worse the drink wasn't his and this was after several failed attempt's to eat nachos that also weren't his in he same manner. Now I'm all for a good time and I've had my share of alcohol fueled moments so I walked over to the three bearded beasts to access the situation, and since were on the subject let's just call them Bigfoot, Sasquatch and Yeti. Believe it or not Bigfoot and Sasquatch could of passed for doubles but Yeti was the tallest with a tattoo of what looked like a beaver on his bicep? The deputy shined his flashlight into the engine compartment and sure enough where was a skunk curled up and snoozing. These situation's weren't new to me so I suggested to the three to leave the animal alone and it would eventually leave on it's own accord. This was not the correct response for Bigfoot who slurred out, "You ain't leaving till that skunk is gone". Both Sasquatch and Yeti shook their heads in agreement and started to grunt. I think if they had a large bone of some sort these two would have thrown it in the air? The Sheriff's Deputy was far less than patient with my furry friends and laid the law out on the line, "Look you three", he said, "I've dealt with you guys before, your all drunk and you can't drive anyway so take the Officer's suggestion or go to jail for drunk and disorderly".  Bigfoot's jaw began to tighten and gave me the look of snake eye's even though his were somewhat crossed possibly from drinking or maybe not? Yeti helped Sasquatch over to the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. "Careful", I said, "you don't want to disturb the skunk unless you want your engine sprayed". "Alright", replied Bigfoot, " I called my sister to pick us up and she should be here any minute". The Deputy asked me if I could stand by for just a few until the sister arrived and mentioned, " I hope she hasn't been drinking too"? At that moment just a short distance down the road appeared two dim headlights and as it got nearer it was clearly a tractor. Operating this front loading John Deere was a gal no bigger than a corn muffin . Wearing a Indy raceway cap turned sideways she barreled towards us and came to a stop kicking up a lot of dust. "I'm getting tired of this Mitchell", pointing at Bigfoot'. He lowered his head and replied, " Well, we're in a predicament beyond our control". Sis sure was dressed for the occasion decked out in  a homemade purple shirt that read, "Got any lately" with a arrow pointing toward something that looked like a cow or maybe a pig, I couldn"t tell and either could the deputy. The deputy raised his eyebrows and said to me, " I wonder if that outfit comes with matching shoes"? After convincing the deputy she was alright to drive Sis yelled out," Let's go, I got pigs to feed", as she lowered the front loader that appeared to be steaming with fresh steer manure? All three climbed aboard disappearing down the roadway and into the night and with all this commotion my sleeping skunk climbed out from under the trunk and headed straight for the dumpster located behind the Diner for possibly a nightcap.

Dog owner turned Dog napper?

Dog owner turned Dog napper? I was working the Coast that day and was accompanied by my then ex-wife as a ride-a-long.  She was tall, bright and model slender and even won first place at the Miss Legs contest featured at the San Mateo County Fair one year. But caged within those runway looks was a tigress and on two separate occasions her claws met my butt! Once while at a party I was merely chatting with a rather attractive hostess when I felt a slight tap on my shoulder? as I turned my charming wife buried a wicket right hook to my liver dropping me instantly. Yes, I was a little tipsy and No, I wasn't asking her out? The second time I saw stars ignited over a dispute which I'm still trying to remember but just know this she could hit and kick like a mule and possessed blinding speed! Anyway we eventually  divorced but depending who's side you were on she was good to have around? We ended up patrolling the streets of El Granada when the wife spotted a Labrador and a Husky cruising the neighborhood with no owners in sight. Stopping the truck I radioed my location and managed to leash the Husky while the Labrador ran for the hills. Just as I began to the load the dog into the vehicle a car slowly pulled up just behind me. I looked over to the wife who was busy doing her nails when suddenly a man's voice said, "I'll take that" as he grabbed the leash and dog from my hand. Instantly the car shot pass me as the driver threw my leash into the street. I watched him accelerate around the corner driving a dark blue convertible with the Husky by his side. I stood in disbelief and yelled to my wife, " did you see that", that guy just took the dog". My attentive wife sit clueless blowing on her nail to dry? " Didn't you just impound that dog"?, she said. I hopped into the truck and radioed County communications regarding what just transpired. I gave them all the information I had like make, model and color of the vehicle, description of the suspect and what direction he went. Within minutes both the San Mateo Sheriffs Department along with Half Moon Bay Police Department had the suspect in custody and requested my assistance. There was my dog napper draped over the hood of his car in cuffs and cussing like my charming ex-wife? who now jumped out of my truck and attempted to choke our detained law breaker. After the Officers on the scene managed to calm my lovely bride down and the suspect in question who turned blue due to a good choking delivered by my wife the Officers told me the dog belong to him. As the suspects color returned to normal and he could breath on his own again without assistance he started to scream, " get her away from me, take me to jail, that bitch is crazy"? I couldn't disagree with that and according to the Police my dog owner was a ex-felon and on probation. I impounded the animal and transported it back to the shelter where it was held under protective custody. No charges were never filed against my wife and according to my ex-felon's probation officer the incident turned this guy around. The ex-felon believing my wife worked at the shelter had his grandmother redeem his dog sometime later possibly to avoid another round of choking? I'll never forget my telephone conversation with his Probation Officer when he mentioned to me, "Larry, I think you wife choked his guy straight"?

Miss Elizabeth

Miss Elizabeth's face off with Lucifer? It was summer time around these parts and with the heat brings different problems. Animals left by their owners without food or water, left without shelter and always a real killer, left locked in vehicle in direct sunlight commonly known as a hot car! Well, today was something special when I met Miss Elizabeth, a new resident to our county now living in Atherton by way of Savannah, Georgia. According to dispatch Miss Elizabeth discovered what she referred to as "That old Serpent" (another name for the Devil, in this case a rattlesnake) while walking the grounds on her rolling estate. After entering the property through two magnificent black rod iron gates I met Miss Elizabeth and her husband in front of what only could be described as a southern mansion.  Miss Elizabeth turned to me and said in a deep southern draw , " this would never occur in Sandy Springs or Skidaway Island in the beautiful state of Georgia. "Now my pretty peach blossom", replied her husband, it's just a little old snake". Miss Elizabeth looked directly at me, her fiery green eye's peering out from under her light blue sun bonnet, " you'll find that Son of Perdition over there", pointing toward a neatly manicured lawn next to a grove of white oak trees. Grabbing my snake stick and brown safeway shopping bag I headed in that direction. " Did you come here to shop"? Miss Elizabeth called out, "Mother warned me California was a snake pit, Lord knows she was right"! Well, I acted as though I didn't hear her comments no matter how right or wrong she was and walked carefully as I neared the area in question. Having handled numerous rattlesnakes they usually but not always rattled when approached but so far all I could hear was Miss Elizabeth yelling out, " Prince of Tyrus?" (another name for he devil, I looked it up) "return to Hell where you  belong". Suddenly near a pile of neatly stacked fire wood  I located this  demon of darkness with a interesting twist. The snake was in the middle of breakfast having found a very large and now deceased wood rat. " Found him" I called out, " however, he's in the middle of devouring a rat". "A rat", screamed out Miss Elizabeth, " dear Lord, Lucifer's not alone". This apparently was all Miss Elizabeth could endure with the entrance to hell right in her backyard she started to wobble throwing her head back while grabbing both her bosoms she fell into the awaiting arms of her husband.  Poking two small holes in the top of my bag I laid it on the ground and gently picked up the snake who released his meal and placed him in the bag. I could still hear Miss Elizabeth moaning as her husband waved her blue sun bonnet over her face. Waste not Want not I thought to myself so I put my little snakes breakfast in the bag with him and hooking the two small hole's with my snake stick I carried the bag at arms length and secured it inside my vehicle. Miss Elizabeth was now sitting on the front lawn still visibly shaken but had recovered enough to not  require any medical assistance. She reached up to me and said, " bless you dear man, you have ridden this household of something truly evil". I didn't have time to educate Miss Elizabeth about the true nature of rattlesnakes and besides I was getting hungry myself. I drove to a isolated area just off Canada Rd. in Belmont right near the watershed area and found the perfect place to release my wayward reptile. As I laid the bag down next to some shaded bush out slid a very well fed snake with just the tip of the wood rats tail remaining. It appeared the snake now with a rather large bulge in it's middle curled up under the shade flickering it's tongue as if to say breakfast was over and it was time for a nap.

Skunk in the tub

 Skunk in the tub? It's was early, about 10 a.m. and my first call was to a residence in Daly City just off of John Daly Blvd. The sky was grey and cold and of course foggy, it reminded me of London without the werewolf's, however; some citizens were a lot more terrifying. The woman that called was standing out in front of her house holding two small boys by the hand. " Tell him what you did", was the first thing she said, " and you Tommy, you let it in".  Both boys stood silent and turned away now clinging to their mother. "How can I help you this morning", I asked as the faint odor of skunk drifted through the air? "Well, it happened like this" Mom replied, this morning I got up, poured the boys some cereal and parked them in front of the television set. I returned to bed for just 15 minutes more of peace and quite when I thought I heard the sound of running water coming from the master bathroom? "Jimmy", my youngest pulled the blankets from over my face and said, " we got a new puppy and he needs a bath"? I went to investigate and saw "Tommy", my six year old filling the tub with warm water and pouring bubble bath over a baby skunk! I immediately grabbed "Tommy" and turned off the water and closed the door. I asked both boys how did a skunk get inside our house? "Tommy's not talking", she said, but "Jimmy" said they heard some scratching coming from the front door and opened it something they've been told never to do. "Jimmy told me he and his brother started to feed what they thought was a puppy some cereal but it smelled a little? "We lost our dog last year", she said, "she was a black and white Chihuahua and we all dearly miss her". I opened the bathroom door and carefully looked inside. It was a skunk for sure and the animal now soaked managed to get out of the tub and was now under the bathroom sink. Other than being wet and covered in pink bubble bath the little creature appeared healthy, active and alert. I'm not sure he was too happy with me and seemed to enjoy his new environment. Not really being a skunk whisperer I did know this, they liked to hide in small boxes so I laid a cardboard cat carrier down hoping the skunk would walk inside? I stood next to the door while mom and boys watched from across the room. I whispered to the boys to be very quite as to not disturb the skunk but boys will be boys. Almost instantly they both climbed on top of the bed and started jumping up and down yelling, " we got a new puppy, we got a new puppy". "Please boy's", I said, It's not a puppy, it's a baby skunk" while at the same time I looked into the bathroom and saw the skunk somewhat agitated stomping both front feet in anger with it's tail cocked and locked in the upright position.  I just hate getting sprayed first thing in the morning and things weren't looking up. I fished the cat carrier back out and asked mom for some more cereal. Within seconds my wayward wildlife ran into the box without even a little puff of gas. I carefully brought him out of the house and into my trunk without spraying as mom and boys watched me from the top of the stairs. At no time did mom or the boys ever physically make contact with the skunk regarding any health concerns, however; the animal was quarantined for a period of 14 days at our Wildlife Dept. and successfully released back into the wild hopefully never to return for a bath again!