Hitting the wall

www.alphadogpr.com

I heard Bobby calling my name and ran even faster. 

 “Wait, I just want to talk to you,” Bobby yelled with slurred speech. I kept going but could feel him gaining on me as I turned the corner on Larabee. If Blondie and I made it up the steep slope to the car, we would be safe. I thought to myself, just putting one foot in front of the other. I saw my car ahead and dug deep for the stamina I needed.

"Come on girlie," I encouraged Blondie. We were both slowing down as we tried to make it up the hill. I turned around and saw Bobby gaining on us, fueled by his anger and alcohol. My breathing became labored and my fear crippling. 

"I said WAIT," he exclaimed again before grabbing me, shoving me back against a wall. His fists clenched as he caught his breath.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” his face was drenched in sweat.

“I didn't do anything to you,” I tried to squeeze past him but he put his arm up to block me.

“You abandoned me,” he pushed me back again.

“Let me go, please,” I was scared, he was a lot stronger than me.

“Is that all you have to say? ” He braced his back leg like a boxer and punched my arm. I fell back and hit my head against the wall. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I was terrified. His eyes were glassy and blood shot, sweat was streaming down his face and his blonde hair was so wet it looked greasy. He grinned at me and I knew something very bad was about to happen.

“You think you’re too good for me, huh?” Then he hit me in the stomach so hard, I doubled over in pain. I couldn't breath but I held onto Blondie’s leash, terrified she’d run into the street and get hit by a car. He pushed me upright and tipped my head back, yanking on my hair.

I remember covering my face because I didn't want him to give me black eyes. His fists hit me on my shoulders, my arms, my hands. Tears were streaming down my face as he continued to pummel my upper body, blow after blow, while I screamed for help. 

Someone from an apartment across the street yelled “Shut Up.”

“You left me, wasn't I good enough for you? Am I good enough for you now? How’s this.”

He punched me in the right temple and my head hit the wall again. Then he followed with a left hook and I slowly slid down until I was seated against the wall. 

"Please, Bobby stop!" I cried.

Run for your life

www.alphadogpr.com

Guests began arriving and Blondie acted as a one dog welcoming committee, wagging her tail to greet everyone to Randi's party. I was sitting on the floor, listening to Randi strum her guitar when I felt an overwhelming negative energy hit me, making my mouth dry and giving me that dirty penny taste of an adrenaline rush.

I looked up just as Bobby entered. My entire body tightened in fear and I trembled inside. Even Blondie reacted, slinking away from him to hid next to me. Bobby was like a volcano about to erupt and we didn't want to be near him to witness his explosion again. 

Quickly, I stood up, remembering the last time I saw him, acting like a mad man when I came to get my stuff from my place; his face scarlet with anger, throwing my things out the window. I wanted nothing more to do with him. 

He made a bee line toward me and Blondie but I quickly got up and turned my back to him. Then I attached the leash to Blondie, got my purse and headed toward the door. He just stood there, looking like he was going to cry as I brushed past him to get out as fast as I could. I could feel his eyes starring me down, even as the door closed behind me.

 “Hurry up Blondie,” just seeing him gave me the creeps. We started to run for our lives. 

The Sunset strip

www.alphadogpr.com

I took some time off from cleaning cat poop and grabbed Blondie to head out to a party at my friend Randi’s apartment off Sunset Boulevard. It was one of those rare quiet evenings on the Sunset strip. The night sky was clear and filled with stars and for some reason, even the traffic was light. 

Randi was an artist, musician who I had met through my former live-in boyfriend Bobby the drunk. I parked my car one street over on Larabee and was surprised by how easy it was to find a parking space so close to her place. 

I walked Blondie up the hill for a little exercise and a bathroom break before heading to Randi’s. We were the first to arrive because I had offered to come early and help her get ready. There really wasn't anything to do once Blondie and I arrived. It was a low key party and guests were invited to BYOB  We placed some munchies out but that's about it.

Her home was decorated mid-century with her own art work on the walls. Besides being a rock-n-roll musician, Randi was a celebrated photographer and crazy artist who could make a masterpiece out of any trash you brought her. And her art was on every surface. She smoked cigarettes and was a pothead so the space smelled like a combination of stale cigarettes and marijuana. In fact, Randi was smoking a joint when we arrived. 

"Hi Susan, hi Blondie," she greeted us and tried to hand me the joint.

"No thanks," I told her. "I have precious cargo," I said motioning to Blondie, "and I have to drive through Laurel Canyon."

Blondie wagged her tail as if she approved of my decision. She proceeded to make herself at home, sniffing out the place she had been many times in the past. I guessed that there were new smells since she was there. 

Randi put the joint down in a bean bag ashtray and grabbed her guitar. She always had to have something in her hand, be it a joint, a cigarette or a guitar. I sat down on the floor next to Blondie and listened to Randi play the Blondie song, "Don't Leave Me Hanging on the Telephone."

"Did I tell you my friend wrote that song," she asked.

"No, I din't know that." I wasn't surprised since Randi seemed to know every musician and song writer in Los Angeles. I knew the night would be fun, with all her eclectic friends, myself and Blondie included.

The Rat Pack

I was surprised when an overweight woman in her 70s touched my arm. I hadn't noticed the woman with grey hair pulled back in a bun because I was so focused on all the cats living at the sanctuary. She obviously heard my remark about wanting the big black cat with the torn ears.

“Oh that’s Dino, named after Dean Martin. He’s been with us for six years, been in a few fights that one,” she wiped her eyes. “You’ll love him.”

Turns out Pet Pride named all its cats after celebrities in honor of Edith Head, the legendary costumer who left all her money to them when she passed away. The grey haired woman pointed out the sanctuary's version of the Rat Pack: Frankie (after Frank Sinatra) who was a Siamese with blue eyes, Sammy (after Sammy Davis Junior), who was missing his right eye and a tall lanky tortoise shell named  Lawford.

"Joey Bishop was adopted to a wonderful family last week," she explained. The original Rat Pack was started by Humphrey Bogart in the 1960s and I wondered if there was a cat roaming around named after him. The media gave the group of actors it's name and it stuck. I figured a cat named after a member of the Rat Pack would take have to live up to his name!

Pet Pride gave me a cardboard cat carrier for Dino. He wasn't too happy about going in there, spreading out his front legs. But the Pet Pride woman had obviously done this before because she simply turned him around and placed him inside feet last. He barely fit in the small space. All the way to the Perkins house, Dino cried. I felt bad about taking him from his home and all his kitty friends. 

I brought Dino inside and introduced him to the dogs. He was such a big cat that the dogs didn't dare mess with him. I was hoping the rats would feel the same way.

From the moment I put him down, Dino made himself right at home. Although I had prepared for his arrival, setting up a box with kitty litter, Dino preferred to relieve himself where-ever he wanted. 

I saw Dino the first night in the kitchen, crouched down hiding waiting for the right moment to pounce on the biggest rat I had ever seen. The creature was perched on top of the kitchen curtains. I bite my nails in anticipation as the rat came down onto the counter, not noticing, or not caring that Dino was watching. Then, Dino moved into position, like a tiger would. In one move he leaped onto the counter and landed on top of the rat, grabbing it in his paw and bringing it down to the floor in a masterful tuck and roll. Quickly, I opened the back door to let Dino outside with his prize to do with it as he pleased. 

Word must have spread quickly in the rat community because the house became very quiet within a matter of days. I still had to clean up the cat's poop and pee every day but at least I got some undisturbed sleep at night!

I'll take this one

I heard the meows echoing from the Pet Pride sanctuary as soon as I parked my car. The no-kill shelter was located in an old tutor style home near the freeway interchange where the 10 and the 405 meet. When I entered, the house was staged like any normal home, with furniture in each room, refrigerator in the kitchen, sofa in the living room, beds in the bedrooms. The furniture was old and tattered but that didn't seem to bother the feline occupants as each room was filled with cats. And I mean filled!

It smelled like that too. With that many cats, it was impossible for it not to reek of used kitty litter, no matter how many boxes they had and how many times they cleaned out the clumps. Cats were everywhere, crawling, running, swatting, playing, hiding. Felines of all shapes, sizes and colors, from baby kittens to elderly cats, all living happily under one roof. It was a bit overwhelming at first but I was glad to know that a place like this existed where so many felines could live peacefully together.

My mission: to find a cat for the Perkins, one that would go after the rats that had infested their home in Laurel Canyon. This lucky cat would then become my own pet when the family returned for spending the summer at the Cape.

I wanted to pick a big bruiser cat, a rat killer to go after the monsters that were keeping me up at night. I stood in the corner of each room, surveying my selection as the cats sauntered about, effortlessly jumping on top of the furniture, carelessly playing with one another, cleaning themselves by licking their paws then gracefully patting their faces while they swished their tails. 

Of course, I was drawn immediately to the kittens. They were so cute, especially one grey and white one. The kitten with the white whiskers was hiding under a blanket on one of the beds, swatting at the bigger cats near by. While watching the little rascal, I noticed a big black cat with ears that looked like he had been in one too many fights. When he walked, his entire body swayed from side to side. The other cats moved out of his way, giving him room to pass. Even the little kitten didn't mess with this cat. 

He came over to me and rubbed against my leg.

“Meow,” he looked up with big green eyes.

“Oh you want me to pet you, do you?” And he was bossy too. Just the perfect candidate for the job. “I’ll take this one.” 

Designer cat land

Over the next month, I made coffee every morning for the two rat men. They showed up each day, except weekends, wearing their uniform of jeans with a plain white tee-shirt that had a huge image of a rat face on the front and a rat tail on the back. I assumed they had several pairs of jeans and shirts because they were always clean looking when they showed up at the Perkins house.

The rat men checked the traps each time they came and the result was always a big let down. The rats were not biting. Just as they had predicted, the smart vermin kept moving around the house, staying away from the traps. I finally had to face the fact that if I wanted to get any sleep at night, I had to bring a cat into the Perkins home. 

I had been thinking about the possibility since the rat men first arrived and came up with a perfect solution. I would keep the cat at the Perkins until they came back at the end of the summer. Then I would take the cat with me to where-ever I would call home.

I called Berry at the Cape with my idea and she loved it! We hoped that the rats would leave after a few months with a cat in the house. And then the cat would leave with me preventing any allergic reaction from Berry.

Imagine my utter happiness at the prospect of finding a pet for a friend. This wasn't just any pet. I didn't want to get a kitten. I wanted a big cat that would hunt down and get rid of the rats. So I did my homework and found out about a cat rescue funded by iconic costume designer Edith Head. Turns out the woman who defined cinema style for more than fifty years from the 1940s to the early '80s, left all her money to this particular cat rescue when she died.  The legendary costume designer didn't have an heir apparent but she loved cats. She was as famous as the productions she worked on, winning eight Academy Awards, more than any other woman at the time. In the early days of her career, she was contracted with Paramount Studios but later, moved to Universal Studios to work with Alfred Hitchcock, the same man who directed Tony in his famous role of Norman Bates in Psycho. Head was a favorite among many of the leading female stars of the 1940s and '50s from Ginger Rogers and Elizabeth Taylor to Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. She was also a favorite among cats that needed to be rescued. 

Rats vs sneezing

The next morning, I called Berry at the Cape and explained the rat problem. She immediately called me back letting me know she hired an exterminator to take care of the problem.

Sure enough, an hour later, two strange little men showed up at the Perkin’s front door. They were identically dressed in workman's jeans and a tee-shirt with a big rat face on the front and were obviously prepared for whatever rat situation required high rubber boots. I couldn't imagine what the boots were for but from the looks of them, I was sure they knew what they were doing. 

"We're here to get rid of your rat problem, Miss" the taller of the two told me. All three dogs started to bark at the rat men and continued to howl as they set traps in kitchen drawers and the attic.

"Rats are very cleaver creatures," one of the rat men told me. "We'll set these traps but they'll know where we've been and find new spaces to hide." 

"The only way to get rid of them for good is to get a cat," the other rat man added. 

I knew Berry was allergic to cats so that solution was out of the question. I hoped the rats would heed the warning from the rat men or we would have to weigh rats vs sneezing.