The son—named Kelson, who his mother Maxine said from her hospital bed of pain, “name him anything you want”—asked: “What are you going to name that dog?” That dog, tongue extended in a pant, was a 20-inch-tall statuette given by my second daughter Cynthia, in exchange for a horse—yet to be delivered. And as readers know, children and animals must be named. The Golden Retriever who sailed with us was Captain Jack. The Calico cat shipmate we
Category: Pets
Attack Cat
My IPad video showed a cat named Kevin boldly chasing a coyote away from its Portland, Oregon home. Sure enough, I saw the cat was a Russian Blue. Folks that strain of felines is dangerous. And I have evidence, a fourth, feeble right-hand finger to substantiate my fear. Keyboarding you this missive with two fingers because I no longer can touch-type. Tried to pat our kitty Sasha, and he bit that feeble finger. Two days later
Dog Door
Before you try to solve the “I’m always opening and closing the door” pet problem, read another Captain Jack and Cobalt episode. When last we left the Golden Retriever and the German Shepherd, both had grown waist high, three feet tall. Fully grown and well-schooled by Miss Lucy, the elderly Dachshund at Cobalt’s house. Next door to Captain Jack’s fenced pen at the back of our basement. A four-foot high wall that reached up to
Old Dogs
Miss Lucy was an old dog. Small. Part mutt but mostly long haired dachshund. Pampered more than ten years by our Chapel Hill, next door neighbor Margaret Cohan. Cobalt was a dark German Shepherd puppy that her son kept with his widowed mother. Captain Jack was our Golden Retriever puppy. Largest in his litter. Puppies Captain Jack and Cobalt met Miss Lucy in our driveway which was two feet above our front lawn. Puppies wanted to
Buffaloed
We watched the evening eruption of Old Faithful geyser. The next morning the three of us drove the road that goes through Yellowstone National Park. I drove, Margaret rode shotgun and Brandy, our 12-year-old standard poodle, sat in the back seat. A few miles outside the park headquarters, the car ahead suddenly stopped. I braked. Then we saw the herd of bison that commandeered the asphalt. I counted over a dozen. The herd split and
Captain Jack
Our crew didn’t win the sailboat race, but we recuperated on the grassy slope outside the New Berne community center, drank a few ‘Daddy Cokes,’ visited with our competitors. We had flown our orange spinnaker…decorated with the dark skull, a blackened rose in her teeth…from the Oriental, North Carolina harbor to New Berne, twenty-some miles down the Neuse River. Captain Jack had sailed his first regatta aboard the 30-foot sloop “Anne Bonny”, named for the
Smartest Dog
Magazine article just read rated the Border Collie as world’s smartest dog. I agree. Our first dog ‘Brownie’ was primarily Border Collie, although relegated to the Animal Shelter because of his mixed bloodline. That’s where my bride of one month found him. Maxine wanted a dog in the house while I worked the morning newspaper shift. The duplex neighbors thought that was a good idea. They renamed him ‘The Brown Bomber.’ Later, the three little
Alfie, the Cat
You may have heard Dionne Warwick sing “…What’s it all about, Alfie?” You may have seen the movie “Alfie”. We remember the cat Alfie. Met Alfie in 1975 when I moved into a 15-story Honolulu condominium. Alfie lived on the fourth floor, and he was famous for falling four floors. And surviving. Alfie leaped for a bird that lit on his balcony, missed the bird, landed in a tree beside the swimming pool. Swimmers helped
Bosun Mate, the cat
Our sea-going cat was named Bosun Mate. Boatswain Mate is correct spelling for the Navy rank, but our Bosun Mate wasn’t always correct. When Bosun was a kitten, we took him aboard the Makaleka, our 36-foot Pearson sloop. Bosun shared the boat with Captain Jack, our 85-pound golden retriever, who also sailed the North Carolina waterways with us. Bosun must have thought he was a dog. We found that out on his first summer voyage