I fell in love with our neighbor's dog through the fence. And when they abandoned her, we adopted her.

We brought our first dog home on Halloween.

That was cool. In fact, one of coolest things ever for both humans and dog.

But that first day wasn’t cool, because she wasn’t a dog yet. She was a 60-pound chimpanzee on a pogo stick who launched herself at everything that moved, especially the cats, turning them into hissing blurs of fur.

Afraid one ring of the doorbell from a trick-or-treater would make the cats disappear forever, we turned off the porch light and prayed for no visitors. And when we finally crawled into bed with the dog secured in the garage because we didn’t think to get a crate, my husband and I looked at each other and said, “What the f--k did we do?”

What we did was adopt a 13-month-old dog who had never been taught any manners or even taken for a walk. I know that because I watched her all those months in my neighbor’s yard, where nearly all of the time she had nothing to do but watch me. 

So she dug a hole under the fence to stick her head through and see me better. Soon I was talking to her all the time, greeting her by sticking my hand through a knot hole in the fence so she could lick it, and playing chase with her by running from one end of the fence to the other. 

At night I’d sit at the fence and call to her. She would come and lie on her side, stick her leg through the hole she made and I’d hold her paw, telling her some day I’d take her for a walk.

But the week my husband bought a leash for her, we noticed she was no longer in the yard. I looked for her in the animal shelter and there she was, in the very last cage, after being found wandering in the hills several miles away. I wasn’t sure it was her at first because I had never seen her ears or even her whole head before. But she knew it was me immediately, jumping up and pawing through her cage to reach me.

After giving her owners 10 days to claim her, we legally adopted her and finally on Halloween night, we brought her home. The next day I borrowed a crate so she could sleep in the house, and after seeking help from a dog trainer, I quickly got her to stop jumping on me. 

It took much longer, however, before the dog and the cats could be left alone together, then even longer before I could walk her without her pulling on the leash, and even longer before anything left in the back yard would not be chewed to bits.

I don’t think she will ever learn to avoid skunks or to not run up to new dogs, despite one taking a chunk out of her side for being rude, but she learned the driving routes to and from our favorite parks so well that she will tap my shoulder with her nose if I make what she decides is a wrong turn. 

 

I spent more than 40 years as a devoted cat person, but few things now give me more joy than watching my dog running free, then sprinting back to me, her tongue flapping. Or watching her play with other dogs, like her first love Simon.

That first night, we were scared we had brought home an uncontrollable beast. Now the only thing that scares me is imagining life without her. 

 

Which I'm having to do more and more, unfortunately, as the dog turned 13 last month and no longer jumps, having long since put away her pogo stick.

But she still loves walking, can still run a little, and can still remind me every day of that super sweet, but super spazzy, puppy, especially when she gives me one of her play pounces:

 

 

Let your hair down -- even your hair down there

The musical Jekyll and Hyde has a song called “Confrontation,” in which the “good” Dr. Jekyll argues with the “bad” Mr. Hyde about which of them deserves to live in his body.

In a recent fundraiser for the Ukiah Players Theatre, “Bring on the Men,” the song was given a brilliant twist: a man telling his gay urges he was going to kill them. And the struggle was conveyed brilliantly by Casey Frey, who switched back and forth from solemn to animated as effortlessly and completely as a rubber band changes from taut to loose.

That was cool.

So cool, in fact, I felt that performance alone was worth the hefty ticket price. What I liked even more, however, was when UPT executive director Jenny Peterman described why she had chosen a show full of men in drag to be the theater’s fundraiser.

On the surface, there seems to be no better way to get women in particular to shell out $40 a ticket than to promise plenty of men in panty hose, then throw in a free drink and dessert.

But Peterman said the show was about more than fun. It was about having the performers step into someone else's shoes, and in the process hopefully learn a bit more than how to walk in high heels.

“I never understood how 'tolerance' was supposed to be the preferred response (to those who identify as something other than strictly heterosexual),” said Peterman. “I believe love and acceptance is the only humane response.”

This show, Peterman said, even helped her performers, who were arguably already particularly accepting of different lifestyles, learn some things about accepting other people’s choices, most notably about how much hair they choose to remove.

“These guys are shaved and plucked and tucked within an inch of their lives,” she said, explaining that while “before there was all sorts of bawdy talk about their partners’ bodies and who likes a little hair or no hair at all. But now, after they know what it’s like to have to remove it, they’re like: ‘Do whatever you want.’”

That was super cool.

Because learning to accept what other people do in other bedrooms is relatively easy. But learning to love every hair your partner brings to your bed? Now that’s love and acceptance.

The men of "Bring on the Men" (l to r): Tucker Morninglight, Brian Maneely, Chuck Mordock (purple shirt), Casey Frey, Oscar Medina Montelongo and Justin Kester (lying down).      Photo credit: Chris Pugh-Ukiah Daily Journal

Kids still love Star Wars, and now there's a girl Jedi for them to love!

I recently got to watch a class of fourth-graders release tiny steelhead trout they had raised from eggs into a creek.

“May the Force be with you,” many of them said to the fish, hoping it would help them make it to the ocean, then eventually come back to spawn.

That was cool.

As someone who remembers seeing the first batch of Star Wars movies when I was their age, I love that kids still love Star Wars.

And I love even more that girls now have a girl Jedi to admire.

I remember playing with Star Wars action figures with my best friend and having intense arguments about whose favorite character was the hero, Luke Skywalker or Han Solo. I argued for Luke, she argued for Han.

But if the action figures we were playing were from Star Wars: The Force Awakens, we wouldn’t have been fighting over who the hero was. We’d fight over who got to play her. 

Will Lyle Lovett ever play "Creeps Like me?" Why concertgoers should be able to pay extra to hear their favorite songs

My CD of "Road to Ensenada."

I don’t have the patience for concerts. Even if I’m enjoying the music I usually can’t sit through more than a couple of songs, so I rarely buy tickets for live shows.

But I made an exception for Lyle Lovett’s current acoustic tour with Robert Earl Keen. I thought if Lovett didn’t have his Large Band with him, I’d be more likely to hear the slow songs I favor: “Road to Enseñada” being at the top of that list.

So I paid $75 for a ticket and made the long drive to U.C. Davis’s Mondavi Center in the hopes of hearing that song. And about an hour in, he played it. As many times as I’ve listened to a recording of that song, there was definitely something magical about finally hearing it performed live.

That was cool.

But … it also got me thinking about how disappointed I would have been if he hadn’t played it. And about all the other songs I’d love to hear; the more subversive ones like “Creeps Like Me” or “Sonya” that likely aren’t crowd-pleasers.

So I’m wondering if musicians can offer persnickety fans like me a way to add requests to our ticket price. I have to admit, I left soon after Lovett played the song I wanted to hear. But if I knew he was going to play another of my favorites, I would have stayed longer.

I don’t care where I sit, I was sitting as far back as you could get and the acoustics were still great at that venue, so I don’t need to pay more to sit closer. But I do care what songs I hear, so I would happily pay more for the chance to hear a certain song.

I’ll let the artists or the promoters work out the details. Maybe if at least 20 people pay $50 extra for a song, it will be added to the set list?

Just think about it. Thanks.

Best Claire Underwood line yet: "Do you regret having them?"

My favorite part of Season 4 of Netflix’s House of Cards, other than the return of Paul Sparks as writer Tom Yates, was when Claire Underwood is asked whether she regrets not having children. Her response: “Do you ever regret having them?”

That was cool. I thank whichever of the writers came up with that.

Even when asked between two childless women, that’s an incredibly personal and potentially heartbreaking question, since one could have tried desperately to have children while the other never wanted them.

But in that scene, I think the woman asking the question was really saying, “Don’t you wish you had my life?” which can often be the subtext behind that question, along with a secret desire by the person asking it to have their life choices validated by the other person admitting they regret theirs.

Instead, Claire lets her know that she likes her life just fine, thank you.