OK folks, after a long hiatus here is a short posting describing two of our long and faithful friends, Riley and Luci.

Memories of Riley and Luci

Riley came to us in 1986 over my objections. (I did not want the responsibility of a dog, but my wife had to have a dog.) Riley was a medium-sized, white Sheppard mix. She, yes, “she”, came to us with that name from the local animal shelter. Like so many shelter dogs, Riley was very thin with her ribs very noticeable. Again, like too many shelter dogs, Riley had obviously been badly abused. She had a scar on her nose and was very much afraid of men and large women. She would evidence that fear by crouching low, barking, and growling menacingly. Unfortunately I was one of the objects of her fear. It took several years for us to bond. More about that later.

Under my wife’s loving care Riley fattened up and became a very healthy dog. She enjoyed romping in our backyard and rooting out gophers. Riley continued her menacing ways, thoroughly intimidating some of our men friends. In one instance, unbeknownst to my wife and me, she kept a guest pinned down in a chair on the deck for almost an hour. She just sat in front of our friend, staring at his crotch. He was too terrified to move. Years later Riley did make up with our friend.

On Mothers’ Day in 1987 my wife received a kitten as a gift from her son. Luci was a black cat with white markings, no bigger than a fist. And a small fist at that. We had two steps up to the kitchen from the living room. Luci would sit on the steps with only her eyes and ears peeking over the top step. For the first six months or so Luci would jump on Riley’s back and ride her like a jockey. Both Riley and Luci seemed to enjoy the activity. This continued until Luci got to be too heavy for Riley.

It is a long story how Riley and I bonded. We were living in Redondo Beach, California. I had been retired for several years and had built our dream home in the mountains of southern Oregon. In 1997 my wife was about to retire and I was to drive our household goods to Oregon on our Ford F600 flatbed truck. So, early one rainy morning I took off with the truck, fully loaded, with Riley and Luci in the cab with me. My wife was to follow in a few days in our car. She

urgently advised Riley to be good or she might be left along Interstate 5.

To cut this story short, after nineteen and one-half hours of driving in the pouring rain, we arrived at our new home in the mountains. There had been at least a dozen stops to walk Riley and tie down the tarp over the load. Ever thereafter Riley and I were on very good terms.

Riley and Luci settled down to a pleasant mountain life. In the summer Riley enjoyed barking at squirrels and chipmunks and chasing them under the wood piles. She never caught any. In the winter Riley loved rolling in the snow. She had a very thick undercoat, almost like down, so she was never cold. On the other hand, during the summer, Luci was a very efficient hunter. Every day or two she would deposit a trophy on the master bathroom shower floor. She caught everything from lizards, to chipmunks, to squirrels, to mice, and birds. Fortunately she never encountered one of the many raccoons that made their homes around us. In the winter, however, Luci was a prig. She would not so much as put a paw on the snow. So she spent winters indoors.

One Friday evening in 2002, Riley had a stroke. She flip-flopped all over the great room floor and fell down a flight of stairs. I retrieved her and tried to calm her down. We called the vet who asked that we bring Riley to his place of business. (That was some vet! It was already 9:00 pm on a Friday night.) So, we bundled Riley up and drove the twenty-three miles to town. The vet confirmed my diagnosis of a stroke, gave Riley a shot of cortisone and a sedative, and sent us home. Over the course of several weeks Riley gradually recovered and never had any further problems of that sort.

My wife wanted another dog, supposedly to keep Riley company. So we went to a local breeder and got Alexander, an eight-week old, pure-bred Boston terrier. And keep Riley company, Alex did. We had a beautiful home in a lovely wooded setting with spectacular views. Unfortunately it was twenty three miles to the nearest store, ten miles to the nearest mail delivery, and the long driveway was so steep that we had to put on chains to get in and out for from four to six months of the year. And my wife is a city girl. So we sold our dream home and moved to the Coachella Valley with Riley, Luci, and Alexander. While making up our minds whether we would buy a place and settle down for good we rented a small house in La Quinta. Luci, by now, was mostly an indoor cat. She settled down comfortably. Riley and Alex for the most part made do with the small back yard. On occasion Alex would escape and run down the block to play with the local children.

Riley began to show signs of advanced aging. She developed trouble standing up and frequently wet herself. In her final days we bathed her at least once a day. That was the least we could do in return for her almost twenty years of loyal service. During the summer of 2005 we had to say goodbye to Riley. It was a very sad day!

By that time we had decided to stay in the Coachella Valley and bought a home in Thousand Palms. We moved in the fall of 2005, our retinue reduced to Luci and Alex. While Luci had always been very aloof, (one friend called her “the cat from hell”) she now became more and more friendly, even affectionate. And she became very vocal. Now Luci began to show her age with no more signs of the mighty hunter she had been in Oregon. In the spring of 2008 she developed what turned out to be a cancer on her nose. The vet surgically removed the growth. The surgery site healed well and Luci became even more affectionate and vocal. She never lost her appetite.

Unfortunately, after several months, the growth returned. This time the vet removed the growth using cryogenic (freezing) surgery. Sorrowfully Luci never recovered. After a couple of months she stopped eating and it came time to say goodbye after twenty years. Another very sad day.

And so, you have read a small piece of the story of two, loyal, long-time family pets.

Bob Beatie

June, 2009