Dog will bark

The Perkin's house was protected by an alarm service with a special panic button that I could carry around the cavernous space at night. The very first night I slept there alone, I was awoken by strange sounds in the walls. Was I hearing things? What was buried in the walls? I immediately got out of bed, grabbed the panic button, ran down the stairs with three dogs in tow, and began turning all the lights on. I went from room to room keeping Blondie, Charlie and Gregory close by my side, scared half to death. This was, after all, the home of the man who starred as Norman Bates.

I walked down the long hall towards the master bedroom. The floor squeaked and I jumped, which made the dogs bark like crazy. Immediately, I ran toward the front door and hid under the stair case that led to my room. I kept pushing that button until a security person arrived. When I heard the door bell ring, I almost jumped out of my skin, making the three amigos sound the bark alarm.

"Who is it?" I asked sheepishly over the dogs.

“What seems to be the problem miss,” he asked as I opened the door, the dogs still barking.

“I’m hearing strange sounds. They’re coming from inside the walls,” I lead him up the stairs where I first heard the strange sounds.

He put his ear up to the wall to listen over the loud snarling that continued.

“Those are the rats. They’re all over the canyon. Nothin’ we can do ‘bout ‘em. You’re lucky. Sometimes they trick off the alarm.”

I didn't feel lucky. I felt tired but my heart was pounding too hard to sleep. Finally, the dogs settled down and within moments, were sound asleep. I lay awake all night as the dogs' barks were replaced by snoring. Ahhhh, to be a dog.

My summer home

That summer I was still looking for a new place to call home. The Perkins once again came to my rescue. As the family vacationed on Cape Cod, I was left in charge of their home.  

My main focus was looking after their dogs, Charlie and Gregory. Both mutts, Charlie looked like a collie of some sort and Gregory was part black lab. They were both friendly to Blondie, which made the situation even possible. 

I left the three dogs at home every day when I went to work. By that time, Charlie and Gregory had entered their mid-life and Blondie was starting to age so they slept most of the day. But when I came home, the three amigos, as I called them, were ready for a long walk. The walks in the canyon allowed me the time to take stock of my situation. All I knew was that I never wanted to go out with an alcoholic again. Especially one that was as abusive as Bobby.

Instead, I wanted a partner, an equal. I didn't know where to begin to find that someone but I did know couples that seemed happy. Tony and Berry, for one, had a loving and lasting marriage that I admired and they were wonderful parents. Although Tony's life prior to Berry was confusing when it come to his sexuality, he did try to cure his homosexuality in therapy. This was way back in the day when an actor like Tony had to stay in the closet to keep his acting career as the hunky "boy next door" intact. The studios would arrange dates for him and the gossip columns would photograph the tall, lanky actor with aspiring starlets. 

During therapy for what he believed would cure his homosexuality, Tony flipped through a copy of Vogue Magazine to determine what type of woman attracted him. That particular issue had a spread of Berry and her sister Marissa, with lots of photos. Tony pointed out the tomboy Berry as his perfect match. 

Turns out that Berry had a crush on the actor during her time in Switzerland at boarding school. She had clipped out photos of Tony and pasted them into a scrapbook. 

In 1972, the couple met at a New York party. Berry told me that she knew Tony was going to be at the party and was excited to finally meet the man who she dreamed about since boarding school. She didn't see him at first but could feel his presence. Tony saw her right away and struck up a conversation. The two began dating. 

They married a year later on the grounds of his Cape Cod home. She was 17-years his junior and absolutely head over heels for the man. Tony's dog at the time, Murray, who looked a lot like their current collie, Gregory, was the ring bearer at the ceremony. Berry still had the pillow she made to hold their rings, stuffed with Gregory's fur. She was barefoot at the intimate ceremony.

I remember attending a high school play that Osgood was starring in and Tony was there offering encouragement to his oldest son. I heard people in the audience whispering that Tony Perkins was there. Tony tuned them out. He wanted the attention to be on his son. That was Tony. He didn't want the attention to be on him. He wanted everyone to see the miracle that he and Berry had conceived together. 

The Perkins

The Perkins house was originally built as a barn, the old stalls converted into bedrooms with a long hallway connecting to the kitchen, dining room and living room area. I was staying in one of the upstairs bedrooms that summer with the rest of the house empty except on occasion when Tony came to town to promote the latest Psycho movie that was in the Theater that year. He was tall and handsome and very much into health and fitness. I would prepare for his arrival, stocking the refrigerator with fresh juice, his favorite fruits and vegetables, goat cheese and a special blend of coffee. I made sure his favorites were waiting for him when he came home to be on The Tonight Show.

I can still remember the first night I met the Academy Award-nominated, Golden Globe-winning American stage and screen actor, best known for his role as Norman Bates in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho and its many sequels. He and Berry were going out that night. My friend, their usual baby sitter, couldn't make it at the last minute and asked me to step in for her. I jumped at the chance to meet the woman whose photographs I had studied in journalism school, Berry Berenson. She was a cult icon and her husband Tony was more than a movie star, he was a legend. I couldn't believe my luck.

When I entered their house, Tony was seated behind their kitchen counter drinking a bottle of water, long before it was something everyone did.

“Would you like some goat cheese?” the tall, lanky actor asked as he stood, smearing cheese on crackers. I had never tasted goat cheese before and it sounded very fancy to this simple valley girl.

“Sure,” I said as he motioned for me to take a seat across from him on one of the kitchen bar stools. He looked right through me, as if he could see right into the heart of me. It was a bit unnerving at first.

“Here, try this,” he gave me a cracker with cheese and they were delicious. I happily crunched away. “So tell me about yourself,” he asked, I was surprised that he put the spotlight on me. Then I became nervous. I mean, he was a movie star and he was asking about me. I didn't expect this at all. 

As I opened my mouth to answer, the goat cheese, along with my nerves made my mouth so dry, I could barely talk. He sensed the problem right away and jumped to my rescue, opening the refrigerator to get me a bottle of water. “Here, have some water.” “Berry will be right out.”

Berry came down the hall wearing a red Byblos pants outfit that looked amazing on her. She was such a natural beauty who had a confidence and warmth that immediately made me feel like part of her family. She was so unpretentious, generous in time, spirit and love. At the time, she drove a 67 Chevy, took care of her husband, her kids, their two dogs and two bunnies. That day, I didn't imagine myself being on that list but as luck had it, Berry soon took care of me too.

Rat heaven

They say that when one door closes, another door opens. In my case, the door belonged to Berry and her family. They asked me to house sit for them that summer while they relaxed at their home in Cape Cod. This gave me some time to heal in beautiful surroundings. 

Their house was located in Laurel Canyon, an eclectic residential area with homes ranging from mountain retreats and English Tudor cottages to Mediterranean and Cape Cod style architecture. Living at their Spanish Hacienda fashioned family home tucked away in the hills allowed me to stay completely away from Bobby because he didn't have a clue where I was living. 

Blondie and I looked after the Perkins home and their dogs, mutts named Charlie and Gregory. It was relaxing and I felt blessed to have the opportunity. 

There was only one problem. Rats.

They kept me up all night. Dancing inside the walls. They came knocking in the kitchen. They haunted the house in the Canyon. 

Leaving everything behind

I ran outside and down the stairs, hoping that maybe I could catch something, anything, before it shattered. But from the street below, I realized that was a stupid idea.

“Take this,” he yelled as my clothes came dancing down in slow motion. Next, he threw pieces of that small dining room table, already smashed to bits, followed by the two mismatched chairs. Neighbors came out of the apartment building across the street where Sean Penn and Madonna lived; the building that looked like a castle. Now, my belongings lay in front of it smashed and broken to bits, compliments of Bobby, the man I tried to help.

“Do you want us to take care of that guy?” One of the neighbors asked, flexing his arm muscle.

“No, I just wanna get out of here.” I left everything behind.

I thought later, why did I say “No” to the neighbor. Why did I let Bobby get away with hurting me and ruining my things? The answer is that somewhere, deep inside I've always had faith. I may not have known it but somewhere; there has been a speck of it because even though Bobby had ruined my life, I couldn't bear to sink to his level. I would let God or karma or my higher power take of care of him. 

Bobby stayed in my flat for the rest of the month. I never did get my deposit back.

Crash and burn

Things were totally out of control with my boyfriend Bobby. He got so abusive one night that I ran out before things could go from bad to worse. I knew I couldn't get him out of my flat. I had tried before but he wouldn't leave. So the very next morning, I decided to move out myself. I rented a U Haul and came back to get my possessions and move them into storage. I didn't ask anyone to help me because I felt too embarrassed about the situation. For the time being, I was going to live at my friend Berry Berenson Perkin's Laurel Canyon home. I left my pound mutt Blondie there just to ensure her safety.

I opened the door and was surprised to see him already awake. He was standing at the window that looked out to the castle building where Sean Penn and Madonna lived. I started shaking, unable to look at him directly. "Bobby, it's over. I'm moving out," I told him. 

“You're moving out?” Bobby said as he took a swig of beer. The place smelled like stale cigarettes and I noticed beer bottles scattered about and several of my antique saucers filled to the brim with butts.“I’ll give you your things.” 

One by one, he threw out the entire set of my grandmother's wedding china from the second story window. I cringed at the sound of the delicate grey and white porcelain plates with the gold trim crashing to the pavement below. Then I noticed; he had a pile of my belongings stacked up in front of the window. I stood frozen, not knowing what to do. He looked at me with a sinister smile then picked up my prized Nikon Camera that I had since college with the zoom lens my father gave me for Christmas one year. It too went soaring out the window like trash.

I was stunned. Growing up with my little dog Siesta as my guide did not prepare me for life with a crazy alcoholic boyfriend. In fact, I had no idea what an alcoholic was until then. In my naivete I still thought how could he be so cruel to me? I didn't yet know that his actions had little to do with me. No matter how much I loved him, he had a disease; alcoholism. No amount of love from me would make him better. He had to decide to get into recovery for himself. 

Dog groomer

 I was pleasantly surprised that Bobby, my live in boyfriend, kept his word and stopped drinking. He  attended AA meetings daily and started his own recovery. There was hope. Bobby and I made sense, I told myself. After all, Bobby loved my pound mutt Blondie almost as much as I did. He started doing more than just cleaning up around my flat, including waking up early to see me off to work with a hot cup of coffee. He even bathed Blondie in my tub.

“You should think about becoming a dog groomer,” I told him while he was rinsing the suds off her. “You’re really good at that.”

“You think so?” He asked, now drinking in the approval instead of booze.

“Well, look at her, she seems to be relaxed, don’t you think? I bet Berry and Tony would pay you to bathe Charlie and Gregory. You could get lots of clients just from people we know.” 

He shook his head in agreement, then took Blondie out and proceeded to towel her off.

But he never did try and get grooming clients and his recovery didn't last long. Less than a month later, he started drinking again. That was bad enough but to add insult to injury, he bathed Blondie while intoxicated, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Please don’t smoke and bathe my dog,” I told him. He was leaning over her, the tip of his cigarette dangerously close to her eyes as she sat in the tub covered in suds, looking up at me shivering, not because she was cold, because she wanted out of there. Blondie was not happy. 

“In fact, do us a favor and stop giving her baths completely.”

“What? You told me I was good at this. She likes it,” he protested speaking in slurred speech.

“Not when you’re drinking,” I said.

“I’m not drinking, I’m perfectly sober,” he lied.

Bobby didn't listen, he did what he wanted when he wanted, the exact behavior that drew me to him in the first place now repulsed me. Nine months after Bobby had not really moved in with me, I had to move out in order to get away from him.