Dogs and people on the river. At dusk, coyote swims by as you zig jag turns through river glass, reflecting earth and man and sky. River bamboo swallows your wake - as if nothing ever happened.
Secret spot. Shhh! Don't tell....
So there I was, living at Cat House, surrounded by 25 felines of every size, sense and sensibility. Waiting to be rescued. Elvis stopped by. In 13 seconds, my life forever changed. I was picked out - picked up - by the basset alpha of Surf Dog Diaries. In no time, I was in the car in a box, on my way to my new home with my new surf dog family.
Dear Dog Diary - In the Beginning - 1991… I remember the day She first picked me up. It was in the Cattery at the jail with all those other kitties.
Actually, it wasn’t bad, it was San Diego Humane Society – but it was still jail. That place in between. For homeless kitties.
A new rescue pup, a chiweenie, adopts us on Mother's Day.. He mastered a surf board faster than all four generations of low rider rescue dogs before him.
Elvis, the big ol’ droopy eyed saggy basset hound, swayed around the house, scraping against the walls of the dinky beach cottage. Walking for any length of time ate up his one-big-energy-surge-of-the-whole-day, and he used it to find just the right spot in the sun to plop down for his daily nap. I guess if I carried 70 pounds and a massive square head with neck flaps bearing down on two inch legs, I’d be a super mellow stoner dude too.