TriMet driver has a meltdown, refuses to drive

What would you have done?

What do you think I should do now?

On Tuesday, February 5 (today), I caught Bus 57 from Forest Grove towards Beaverton Transit Center. I got on the bus at 1:44 p.m. I do not know the bus number.

During the ride, as we were traveling, the bus driver said, in a loud voice, "You need to turn the audio off on your device! Turn it off, not just down." The passengers, most of whom were near the back of the bus, including myself, stared at each other. I didn't hear anything and it looked like no one else did either. There weren't even people talking.

After a few minutes, and another stop, the driver made the comment again. Again, the passengers looked at each other. Some double checked their phones and other devices to make sure they were off - I know I did.

The driver then pulled over, I believe at SW Tualatin Valley Hwy & 209th E, Hillsboro (Stop ID 5637), and said, "We'll continue when whoever it is decides to turn off his audio device." He shut down the bus, got off, walked down the sidewalk and began vaping.

The passengers all stared at each other. I didn't want to sit there forever, so I got up and walked nearer the front of the bus, up near two guys who were closest to the driver. One was, indeed, playing a video game on his device and it was making noise. Because he was in the front of all other passengers, we couldn't hear the sounds his phone was making - hence why we had all looked at each other in confusion when the driver was getting mad. I realized the guy probably didn't speak English and asked, in Spanish, if he spoke English. He said no. So I told him, in very poor Spanish, that the driver did not like the noises from his phone and he needed to turn the sound off. He was deeply apologetic. Then I went to the front of the bus, got off, and told the driver that the guy making the noise didn't speak English, he didn't know he was causing problems, he had turned his phone off now. The driver did immediately stop vaping and get back on the bus, and we continued on the way.

I was going to let this go, however, by the time we go to the stop I needed to get to, to take the bus to Aloha Community Library, I could not cross the four lanes of traffic in time to catch the bus I needed - it pulled away without me. The next bus wouldn't come for 30 minutes so, to make my meeting, I had to call a Lyft and pay $5.

I think Trimet should reimburse me $5. I should not have had to handle this problem on behalf of the driver so we could continue on our way, PLUS, I'm out $5. And, yes, I wrote them and complained.

So, what do YOU think?

Missing Gray Max

Early on, when Gray Max came into my life, I started singing him my own version of My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean:

My Gray Max sails over the ocean.
My Gray Max sails over the sea.
My Gray Max sails over the ocean.
Oh bring back my Gray Max to me...

He loved to be held and petted while I sang that over and over. And I was happy to oblige.

Sometime between 10:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. on Tuesday, October 30, my beloved Gray Max went missing. When I went outside to feed him that cold and wet afternoon and called and called and he didn't come, I knew he was gone. Because Max always comes when I call, and on a day like that, he wouldn't be far. Even if he was at my neighbors, on the porch, with his buddy, my neighbor's cat, Trouble - they liked to hang out - he always came when called.

The rain and cold continued as night fell, and my dread continued. I held out hope that he'd somehow show up that evening, but he didn't. When I got up Halloween morning, I went to the backdoor immediately - and he wasn't there, those glowing eyes looking through the back window, waiting for me to let him in.

It's been 37 days. I miss him so much it's unbearable at times. But I don't think my Gray Max is coming back.

So many of you already know the story: we moved into our home in January 2013 and sometime after that, sitting outside in our backyard, enjoying a fire in the firepit, Stefan said, "We have a visitor." There, a few feet from where we were sitting, was Gray Max, sitting still, listening to us. After some cajoling sweet talk from me, he came over for some petting. The next visit, probably the next night, I dared to pick him up, and after that, he was happy to jump on my lap.

I assumed he belonged to some neighbor nearby: he looked well fed, he was fixed and he loved being with people. But it turned out he was being taken care of by a crazy neighbor who fed and housed six other cats - she said he'd shown up one day and never left, but that he never seemed interested in hanging out with her, though he tolerated all the cats and her two dogs. He sure loved hanging out with me.

She called him "Max." I called him "Not my cat," because Stefan and I had an agreement when we got married: no cats. For the next 20 months or so, I kept saying he was "Not my cat," though I called him "Gray Max" - I just thought that suited him more. And very quickly after that I started calling him "Graaaaay", and when I did, he would come running to me. I didn't feed him, but he loved being with me. And since our dog at the time, Albi, was blind, she couldn't see him to chase him, so we would all hang out together - Gray Max tolerated most dogs.

Gray Max hung out with me in the yard always when I gardened. I violated the house rules and let him come in on my lap in the afternoons. When it got colder, I would close him up for the night in the guest room. When he got ripped open by a raccoon, I paid the bill to get him fixed up, but his "real" owner, the crazy neighbor, kept him housed up in her apartment for recovery. He wouldn't let her pick him up, and even bit her once when she tried - but he loved when I picked him up and kissed his face over and over.

Two days before we put Albi down, I gave her a bath - I didn't want her to smell like pee for her last days on Earth - and we lay in the yard outside together in the sun. Gray Max joined us.

After Albi died, I went for nine months without a dog. I haven't gone without a dog since I was 24 years old. Gray Max was my dog. He followed me all over the house and all over the yard - all before I ever started feeding him. At one point, a raccoon did some serious damage to him, and I laid out a few hundred dollars to get him sewn up. My crazy neighbor kept him inside during his recovery, much to his outrage and frustration. He healed up nicely - and it was just another reason for him to dislike her and like me more.

Then, in October 2014, my neighbor died. I had to find homes for her cats and her two dogs. But I knew I was going to take Gray Max. I couldn't bear the idea of someone else having him nor the idea of not having him in my life. He was a part of my home - and I spend a great deal of time in this house. I just couldn't imagine this home without him.

I got a discarded dog crate for airline travel and converted it into a cat house for the winter. Gray Max often preferred to be outside, even overnight, and he immediately loved the house. I asked Stefan to build cat ladders on both sides of our backyard fence, and he did. Then I asked him to build a platform for the cat crate, so Gray Max could be well off the ground, but his crate wouldn't take up any space on the porch and would still be under the roof, and he did.

Here's a blog I wrote months ago, but never got around to publishing:

The dog and cat dynamics of my house.

Inside in the morning, before meals: if the Gray Max the Cat comes in from outside, Lucinda the Dog does this sniffy, chewy thing on his head, and he loves it. He pushes his head up against her mouth for more.

If I lay down on the couch, Max sleeps on my belly. Lucy sleeps on her bed in the living room or comes over to the couch so I'll pet her. More head chewing if Max leans over.

If Stefan's radio alarm goes off, Lucy begins bouncing around the living room and making a noise like an excited Chewbacca. Max used to panic and hide behind the couch, but now he just stands there, waiting for me to come back and feed him.

Inside in the morning, after meals: if I'm in the floor, petting Lucinda, she will carefully maneuver so that she is in front of me, partially on my lap, so that she can see Max if he approaches and push him away with a paw. Max will circle us both, sometimes getting close enough to give my hand or Lucy a lick. If he licks Lucy in the same direction as her fur, he'll give her several licks. If he licks Lucy against her fur, he will jump back as though he's licked a needle.

Inside in the evenings, after meals: Gray Max lays on my lap as I sit on the couch. Lucy comes over and positions herself in front of me so as to say, "Pet my bum." Sometimes, Max puts his paw out and places it on her rump for a few seconds. No attempt at head chewing - in fact, Max meows great annoyance at her.

When both animals are outside: if Max has just gone outside, and Lucy rushes out or is already outside, she will tear after him and he will dash up the fence and away from her as quickly as possible. If Lucy is already outside and Max gets over the fence and onto the porch, he'll stand right at the door and she will stand out in the yard and bark - she won't come near him.

And sometimes, Max will walk across the living room and Lucy will try to play and Max will meow great annoyance while continuing to walk wherever he is going.

I have always wanted a dog and a cat.

Of course, I have also wanted a donkey, goats, and chickens. But I knew the farm animals were probably NOT going to happen for me - and now, unless we win the lottery and get to buy a ranch, it's not happening.

But I do I have a dog and a cat.

In the last several months, more and more, Max would stay indoors as day ended, laying on my lap most evenings, content while I watched TV. He snuck into the bedroom a few times, but I'd put him outside when I found him and he quickly got the message - no bedroom.

And Stefan didn't divorce me, though it frustrated him so, so much to have a cat in the house.  He barely tolerated it all because he knew how much I loved Gray Max.

When we adopted Lucinda, I was determined for her to at least tolerate Gray Max, and vice versa. Gray Max had lived in a home with two dogs with my neighbor, so I knew it was possible. I brought Max into the house with Lucy after we'd had her for a week and then just sat on the couch while Max howled at the back door and Lucy lay alert in the floor, staring at him. It took about two hours for the howling to stop and for Max to finally wander over to the couch and sit on my lap. But within just a couple of days, they were fine together in the house. It took about two years for Lucy to stop chasing Max in the backyard, however, and she still loved to just start barking her head off at him when they were both out there - he would just lay wherever he was and wait for me to come tell her to stop. They did sometimes sleep together - in the floor of the living room or out in the backyard. I loved finding them next to each other. I even found Gray Max in Lucinda's bed a few times - she really didn't know what to think about that.

In the last two years, I had to make sure Gray Max was in the house when I walked Lucy because, otherwise, he'd follow us. Stefan once realized he was with them four blocks away. Max was obsessed with following Lucy outside the house (but never inside). If he stayed out all night, then when I let him in in the mornings, he would happily tolerate Lucy's morning sniffs and nibbles all over his face. They were buddies, no question. And I loved it. I had wanted a dog and a cat, at the same time, since I was a little girl. It was a dream come true.

Gray Max was around 6 or 7 years old when he came into my life in 2013. Earlier this year, I took him to the vet for his annual shots and because he had so obviously lost weight - a few people had commented on it. The vet did tests and said he was absolutely fine but to switch him to wet food entirely. I did, and he gained weight and seemed absolutely his usual self. You could tell he was 11 or more years old - his sides were sunken in that old man way - but otherwise, he was fine: great appetite, still active, still liked to play a bit.

There were only two things that I wondered about: firstly, he suddenly decided he hated all dogs that dared to walk by our house, moving in to attack as they approached. I often had to pick him up and hold him as dogs passed. The other thing was that he started trying to sleep in my bed again. We started catching him again in the bedroom - always on my side, snuggled down, looking so content - it concerned me because it meant he preferred being in dark and quiet more than being on my lap, and I thought that might be a sign of... oh, I dunno... something... but I still don't think he slunk off and died. He wasn't sick. He was in fine form and spirits and appetite. I had been thinking of a way to make him an entirely indoor cat, but two things were stopping me: there was nowhere Stefan would tolerate a litter box, and Max loved being outside. He absolutely loved it. And since he never went far without Lucy, I thought we could go with this lifestyle for at least a couple of more years.

But Gray Max is gone now. The day after he disappeared, I walked along all the surrounding streets to make sure he wasn't on the side of one, hit by a car. I've posted flyers all over the neighborhood. I've posted online. I've registered with the local animal shelter's lost and found. But Gray Max has not been found.

My guess is that another animal got him - a raccoon or even a coyote. I just wish we could have found the body. And I hate the idea of him dying somewhere, alone, cold and in pain.

I miss Gray Max on my lap, or snuggled up against me on the couch. Or next to me in the yard. I miss his howl of demand to open the door to go out or come in. I miss his look of frustrated as Lucinda stood over him barking. I miss him beyond anything I can put into words. I think Lucinda misses him too.

September update: we start with Monty Python, then move on to trees

Yeah, so, that happened. I finally got the attention of a member of Monty Python. At least it wasn't followed by a restraining order.

*     *     *

I have no nostalgia for the homes of my childhood, no desire to return to any of them. But curiosity got the better of me recently, and I decided to have a look on Google Street View at the house I lived in longer than any other in Henderson, Kentucky. And I was stunned: all of the trees in front of that house, and most of the trees on that part of the street, are gone. The street was shady in my childhood, with many of the trees heavy with blooms in the spring. I remember the smell. I remember the shade, providing relief on scorching hot days. I remember the birds, sometimes overwhelming in the noise they made in the evenings. The street now looks barren - and cheap. I wonder how much everyone's air conditioning has gone up without all that glorious shade. It's just another ugly street in the USA now.

I live in a historic neighborhood now, in Oregon, covered in trees. People are out walking through it all the time. There's a house near us that isn't historic, isn't all that attractive, on its own. Probably built in the 70s. But the three gorgeous Oregon pine trees out front made it beautiful, cozy... sweet. I'd look at it as I walked by and think, it's amazing how these trees make this place look so appealing.

The long-time owner of the house died recently, and the new owner moved in almost immediately.

And those three trees are gone. The trees weren't hurting the sidewalk, nor the foundation, and were oh-so-healthy.

The tiny, sweet front porch that looked so inviting now looks like the cheap tack-on that it is. The shady sidewalk I sought out all summer now bakes in the full sun for hours. The house looks like just a cheap pre-manufactured home.

*     *     *

Did you enjoy my travelogue for our 16-day trip to the Yukon and back? Or the photos?

Where to next? Not sure. Lots of dreams...

What about the chalk art festival photos?

*     *     *

"Portlandia" was filming this month at a store very near us. If I'd known, I would have stood outside with a sign that said, "Rose City Rollers storyline NOW!!!"

*     *     *

I've now lived in Oregon longer than any other state in the USA except Kentucky. I've lived in Oregon for six years, longer than I was in California (five years, 11 months), Texas (four years, three months), Connecticut (almost two years), Massachusetts (two summers) and New York (two months).

I'm a gypsy. I know, it's not the politically-correct term, but I love it so much more than the term that's in vogue now: nomad. The longest I've been at a job is just over four years. The longest I've been at the same address since I was 22 was four and a half years - that was in Sinzig, Germany.

I love getting to know a new community, starting a new job, etc. I've always loved it. It's been a much more affordable way to see different places in the world than continually traveling. But... I'm also so tired of moving. Since my time at university, I've moved more than 15 times. I'd like to keep traveling as long as I can - travel is in my blood - but I'd really like to stay here in our home for a while, at least longer than I've lived at any other address, which means I'd like to stay put at least through July 2017. 10 years would be January 2023. I'll be 57. How frightening...

*     *     *

On the night of the lunar eclipse, I did an interpretive dance with a tennis ball to illustrate to Stefan the difference in a New Moon and a lunar eclipse. He did not applaud at the end.

*     *     *

From my living room window, I saw a guy last night sitting on the steps of a nearby church, frantically swatting away imaginary bugs crawling all over him, or putting out tiny imaginary fires all over his body. I debated what to do. Call the police - because he was tripping and who knows what he'd do next, he might hurt himself, he might need medical attention... don't call police because he isn't bothering anyone, he is obviously in a very vulnerable state and could be harmed by others and needs to be alone, he has no where else to go, I'd rather him be there than in someone's back yard... I ended up calling. Police arrived, the bugs immediately disappeared, they talked, they drove away, he walked away. Problem in no way solved, situation in no way improved. And I'm still debating.

*     *     *

Off to Kentucky in a few weeks...

Major Lucy triumph

Let me mark a major event for Facebook: Lucinda the dog figured out fetch and retrieve tonight. We had NOT been trying to teach her - we just like throwing the tennis ball and watching her grab it and pretend it's a ferocious beast, and we hope that, eventually, she'll drop it such that we can get it. But tonight, unasked, she *consistently* brought it back and dropped it at our feet. We're blown away by her intelligence. OUR DOG IS GIFTED. Fetch me the appropriate bumper sticker.

She's a year old now - her birthday was May 4th. Same day as May the Fourth Be With You day. I've never known any of my dog's birthdays. I gave her turkey bacon for her birthday.

Some recent photos:

Our own not-so-viral dog videos

There's nothing quite like watching our 11 month old dog, Lucinda, at 40 pounds (soaking wet!), playing with her best buddy in the world, Murree, a two year old Newfoundland, over 200 pounds. They loved each other the moment they found each other whilst walking through Forest Grove.

We love having Murree over for visits. It's our own little dog park in our backyard. I decided to use my snazzy new $80 smart phone (yes, eighty, not eight hundred) to record their antics. Oh how I wish I had videos of Buster and Wiley playing....

This is how they are when we first get Murree into our back yard:


Eventually, Lucy hits excitement overload. Lucy is a blur, while Murree is more of a loper:


Finally, when tired, they are each other's chew toys:


Also see these previous blogs about Lucinda:

We Love Lucy

The meaning of noises

What I’ve learned about Lucinda

February Lucinda the dog update

February Lucinda the dog update

We've had Lucinda the dog eight weeks now. It's so wonderful, so comforting, so normal, to have a dog at home again. It's brought back so many memories of Buster, Wiley and Albi when they each first came into my life.

Lucy is less skittish with strangers, so much so that people have thought she's grown. One person said to me today, "My goodness, she's twice the size she was when I last saw her!" Um... no. She's gained less than two pounds since we first weighed her on Jan. 3 at PetSmart. I took her to the vet one day just for her to go inside and meet everyone, so her first visit wouldn't involve anything but friendly people and dog treats. When we took her back, along with Max the Cat (he needed his boosters), she handled being chipped like it was no big thing at ALL.

She walks on a leash incredibly well now, and I've trained with her every day - she knows sit, down, and stay from both positions, and I'm working on "go to your bed". But she just does not understand "come" when we are inside the house or in the yard. At the dog park or when she's walking on a leash - yes, she totally gets it, and it's really wonderful to call her name at the dog park and have her bound toward you and lean up against you as you tell her what a good girl she is. Inside our house and in the yard, I use the most delicious dog treats possible, but she will only "come" in the house or in the yard if we are in the middle of a training session - try it when you are on one side of the house and she's on the other, and she'll just stare at you.

But, sadly, we've had a setback regarding trust. Lucy is a bit more skittish, and seems a bit depressed. And I think it all goes back to our horrible scare with her about three weeks ago.

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you know that we had a horrible scare with Lucy on January 29: around 2:30 that day, after Lucy and I had finished our B Street Trail walk and were two blocks from home on 18th, I fell and lost my grip on the leash. As soon as I hit the ground, Lucy BOLTED. She FLEW down 18th street, her leash dragging behind her, making a loud noise because of the plastic holder for her poop bags banging against the sidewalk and street. I couldn't even begin to catch her as she bolted away from me. She ran two blocks as fast as she could, almost getting hit by a car, then I saw her in the distance turn the corner of where we live, on Birch and 18th. And then she was gone. An hour later, EVERY person in Forest Grove with a dog was out looking for her. Neighbors went out in their cars looking for her. I called Stefan at work. He came home and joined the search. I stood in front of the house, looking, calling, crying LOTS, making a general spectacle of myself. I searched under bushes, in nooks and crannies all around our house and the neighbors. Nothing. Crazy reports came in on the Facebook Forest Grove community of sightings as far away as Cornelius - and poor Stefan drove to every one of them, no matter how crazy.

More than four hours later, night had fallen, and temperatures were dropping - it would freeze that night, or come close. I was imagining the worst, and thought, if we don't find her, this is one of the worst days of my life. Stefan and I decided to go on the route of our usual morning walk, backwards, calling for her. About 45 minutes later, we got back to the house and Stefan heard something rustling in the neighbor's yard next to our fence. It was Lucinda. She' hadn't been there or near there until then, as I'd looked there thoroughly earlier. We think that by going out and calling, she heard us from wherever she was hiding somewhere on the block and came home. She bolted away from us when Stefan approached, but stopped in the front grass, sat, and eyed me with a side, terrified glance. I had to approach slowly, with a raw hide, and I talked and talked. She dropped down on her belly, but was ready to run. I stopped before I got too close and she would bolt again. Finally, she crawled tentatively came forward for the rawhide. She was shaking uncontrollably. Still wearing her collar and leash - the sound of it dragging behind her had contributed to her panic. I held her and wept. Stefan came up and held her too. We brought her inside - both her and her leash wet all over. I fainted shortly after we got her inside - everything just kinda went gray and fuzzy. I think Stefan thought I was kidding. I'm just glad I didn't hit anything on the way down.

Everyone in Forest Grove was awesome. Beyond awesome. I cannot believe how many people went out with their own dogs or cars just to look for our dog! I think she would have come home sooner had the Methodist Church playground not been packed for an hour with screaming kids - she does not like groups of children (she's fine with one or two).

Since then, she's progressed well on training and walking on leash, but we've gone a bit backwards in terms of trust, and that really breaks my heart. When it's time to walk, each morning, afternoon and evening, she cowers and crawls under the futon couch and won't come out, no matter what awesome treat I offer her. I have to put the retractable leash on her when she isn't under the couch and isn't expecting it, and then she'll go on a walk just fine - no cowering at all. She rarely pulls now. But she also rarely sleeps with us in the bedroom anymore, on her bed next to mine. Instead, she sleeps in her crate, getting up in the night to let me know when it's time for a pee break (anytime between 2 and 4 a.m.) - and then she is happy to be put on leash.

She's been to a private dog training class, and she will begin group classes in March. And I'm doing all I can to rebuild our trust: I lay in the floor with her whenever she's outside her crate, and pull her into my lap sometimes - she loves to be held. The best days are always when she can visit the dog park, or have a dog over to play in the back yard - all her inhibitions melt away, and after we get back home, she's happy and content. I would LOVE to get another dog - I think it would help her tremendously. But that's a while a way - we've got things to work on until then.

More:

What I’ve learned about Lucinda

The meaning of noises

We Love Lucy

Helping abandoned animals: you are on your own

A friend back in Kentucky lives in a rural area and has an ongoing problem with people dumping their unwanted dogs near her house. She has the option of taking them to the shelter in the nearest city (Henderson), but has to pay a hefty fee each time she does - and she can't afford it. So she posts on Facebook, begging people to adopt the latest abandoned dog. I understand the shelter has huge expenses, and the fee is reasonable for most people - but for my friend, it's preventing her from bringing in animals at all. I have really felt for her - to be put into this position is incredibly unfair. What affordable, humane choice does she have?

Here in Oregon, I would have been happy to pay a HEFTY rehoming fee to the Bonnie Hays Animal Shelter to shelter and seek a new home for Daisy the dog, one of the eight dogs and cats left behind when my neighbor died recently. But the shelter wouldn't take her, or any of the animals - they take only abandoned animals, and they felt these animals weren't abandoned. How could this be? Because after I filed officially to say the animals were abandoned, Washington County, Oregon animals services contacted the landlord, who told them the animals were being taken care of - and they took his word. What he didn't tell them - but I did, repeatedly - was that it was me, and another neighbor, that were scrambling to take care of the animals, even having to break into the apartment to get them out when the squatter living in there chain-locked the apartment from the inside and then collapsed on the floor for more than 24 hours (I was the one that called 911 for him - he's been in the hospital for more than a week). The animals were saved - but I'll probably be arrested for burglary.

Daisy and the other animals were clearly neglected/abandoned by the landlord, but because he said to an investigator, on the phone, "Oh, no, the animals are being taken care of," no further investigation was done - no interviews with us, the people scrambling to take care of the animals, no site visit to see the condition in which they were living... .

The person helping me take care of the animals is a resident of a nearby group home for adults with mental disabilities. He's a wonderful man - but has very limited reasoning skills. The landlord had told him, "Hey, you get to take care of the animals!," and let him keep the key the deceased had given him long ago - but he never talked with the group home manager. While my neighbor is a wonderful person and very helpful regarding the animals, he's in no position whatsoever to assume complete responsibility for eight animals; one evening, after getting home late, I asked him if he'd taken the dogs out that evening. "Nope!" he said cheerily. "It was raining!" I had to explain to him yet again that the dogs MUST get out at least twice a day, and we went over together to remedy the situation. I would have been happy to tell an investigator this - but no one ever called me, despite my filing a report of animal neglect.

I was told the only way to save the dogs from that situation and into the shelter was to get a letter signed by the landlord declaring that the animals were abandoned. It was a horrible prospect: the landlord had already shown great hostility to another neighbor who had stepped forward to help with the cats, insulting her in a way I shall not repeat, and repeatedly implying that, since she wasn't representing an official shelter, he would not cooperate with her. Later, when I asked him to please stop putting massive bowls of food in the floor of the apartment for the dogs, because Daisy is 30 pounds overweight, he laughed at me and said, "There's nothing wrong with that!" When I explained that she was having trouble getting up and down the steps, and that last year, a vet had said she could die because of all the extra weight, he made a sound and a hand gesture to show he didn't care. When I told him my husband had repaired the fence in the backyard so that the dogs couldn't get out, in case he wanted to put them back there, he said, "The fence is fine! It didn't need fixing!" The fence, in fact, was falling over before my husband fixed it.

So I went to the group home manager, told him what was going on, and he was horrified that one of his residents had been put in this situation, and said he would have to stop his resident from helping because of the inappropriateness of the situation; armed with this information, and a letter declaring the animals abandoned but in no way implying that the landlord had behaved inappropriately, I went over to the landlord when he arrived on the property. It was a hostile situation, and I'm not sure how I overcame his initial refusal to sign - but I talked fast, I emphasized that the neighbor would NOT be helping anymore, and somehow, I got the letter signed.

I shudder to think what would have had happened if I hadn't gotten that letter signed.

In the three weeks since my neighbor died, myself and several other people have taken to the Internet with an aggressive campaign to get the animals adopted. Through the efforts of many people who forwarded our messages to their own networks, we have gotten ALL of the animals adopted with the exception of two: Daisy the dog, and Little Kitty. A neighbor down the street agreed to foster Little Kitty, and then, the week I had finally gotten Bonnie Hays to agree to take Daisy, that same neighbor, who has never had a dog before and has SEVERAL cats, decided to foster Daisy until we can find her a forever home - she felt Daisy would be doomed if Bonnie Hays took her, that she would be completely broken going to a shelter after all that she has been through. I wish the shelter would post information about Daisy on their web site and via social media, but they won't, since she isn't at the shelter.

I adopted Gray Max the cat, FYI. My husband doesn't like cats. Convincing him to do this was not easy. I deserve a medal for that alone.

In all seriousness: I have a job. I have work to do. I have been out of the country for 12 weeks, and I'll be going out of the country again next week, and I have SO MUCH to do. I've done all this with the animals amid all that - what if I'd still been out of the country? What if I hadn't been able to help? What if I had refused to help? I had no legal obligation whatsoever to help. But I did. How many animals out there aren't so lucky to have someone willing to make the time to care for them in similar circumstances?

I hope Bonnie Hays and Washington County animal services will consider making it very clear on their web site exactly what it takes for them to investigate the conditions of abandoned or neglected animals - I'm still stunned that, after reporting their condition, all the landlord had to do was to say was that he was taking care of them, which he was not, for the complaint not to go any further and no investigation to be undertaken. I really can't stress enough how difficult it was for me to get him to sign that letter declaring all of the animals abandoned - it was not a very safe situation to be in regarding that man and having to deal with him, but I did it for the animals. Someone else may not be so brave.

Please, by all means, continue to give financial donations to Bonnie Hays - but consider volunteering there and working to change their policies and communications to better serve abandoned and neglected animals in our county. And being a nonprofit consultant with an international reputation, I offer to DONATE 20 hours my services to Bonnie Hays, for whatever service they want, if it means it could move resources to improve their communications regarding abandoned animals.

I also want to note that I contacted every Portland, Oregon area dog rescue society listed on this page on the Bonnie Hays web site regarding Daisy earlier in 2014, when my now-deceased neighbor asked me to help rehome her. Not one of them wrote me back. Not one.

Neighbors and obligations

I find that most people, regardless of the country they are from, believe a "good neighbor" is someone that is silent, never or rarely speaks to them, never asks them for anything, and never bothers them. I've been to more than 30 countries, and I find that most people don't know the names of anyone living in their apartment building or their block, and don't want to, and when they talk about their neighbors, it's to complain about them. And that's true of many communities in the Southern USA as well, the place where everyone is supposed to be "so friendly."

I guess I'm in the minority in that, to me, a neighborhood is a community, and a neighbor is someone I live with. Yes, I want my neighbors to not bother me - no loud music at midnight, no screaming kids on the trampoline in the evenings when I'm trying to watch a movie or go to bed early, no trash in the yard that attracts vermin, no criminals in the family waiting for an opportunity to steal something and all that. But I also really like neighbors that speak to me, that say "Hi" and "Good morning" and "How as Ukraine?" I like neighbors that mow my lawn ("Well, I was done with mine, and just thought I'd do yours too") or bring me food ("We made three pizzas - you want one?") or wave to me when we're all outside or express concern when they haven't seen me in a while.

I try to be what I think is a "good neighbor." I will bring a neighbor food. I toss people's newspapers closer to their doors. I'll accept a package from Fed Ex or UPS or whatever on your behalf and make sure you get it when you're home. I'll put your loose dog in my backyard and call you at work to let you know. I may not ever invite you to my house for dinner or give you any indication of my politics and I might stick to the weather and traffic in our conversations - I don't want to necessarily be friends with all of my neighbors. But we're neighbors, and we live together. That means I have to count on you if I collapse in my front yard and can't reach a phone, or a moving truck pulls up to my house while I'm out of town, or flames start shooting out of a window when I'm not home.

Two doors down from me lived a woman that most people here in our neighborhood didn't like, and some even feared. She could be loud when she talked, and she had a dog that did not like other dogs. She was schizophrenic and on a variety of medications. She hobbled when she walked, had a massive belly, never wore a bra, and wore... comfortable clothes. She believed in conspiracy theories and thought Jesse Ventura was terrific. She's been arrested at least a few times, I think mostly for fighting with people in public. The police knew her well. The outside of the house where she lived looks awful - dirty, with abandoned things all around - but that wasn't her fault, as she wasn't the owner. She lived upstairs, in one of the four apartments in the building. The apartment next to her is occupied by a scary looking man who she said is a convicted sexual predator, and the two apartments on the first floor are packed with her landlord's junk.

She loved animals. She had a retired therapy dog, and another dog she rescued from Mt. Hood, where she found her tied to a tree, shot by BBs. She had two in-door cats and three outdoor cats. She would cry if she thought any were in danger or sick. She thought I was wonderful for also loving animals, and she came to my door crying when she heard my dog had died.

She told me that, in her younger days, she'd manufactured meth, been a volunteer firefighter in Virginia, wrangled horses in Wyoming, rode with the Gypsy Jokers, and had a BS in biology. She was appalled I am an atheist. She went to church every Sunday, unless she didn't feel up to it. She moved to Forest Grove because it was last on the bus line from Portland in this direction, and she felt like this was a good place to be far away from "bad influences." She told me many times that she wanted to "live right" now, because she hadn't been a very good person for so long.

She was living off of social security and disability, and I have no doubt that she would have been homeless were it not for those programs. And what's sad is that, in the USA, she was one of the lucky ones: a disabled, elderly woman with no family, able to keep a (leaky) roof over her head.

I bought food for her dogs and cats, and helped pay for one of her cats to be fixed. I also walked her dogs when I had the time, along with a man from the group home for mentally-disabled adults - he considered her his best friend, and they had supper together almost every night.

Every time she said something hateful - about wanting her flat mate to die or wanting to get someone in trouble with the police or whatever, I would say her name and, "Is that what you really want? Do you think that's what's best?" and I could always get her to recant and reconsider and calm down. I told her once I was disappointed in her for something she said and she apologized for it every time I saw her for at least a month.

I lived with this woman, in this neighborhood. I decided it would be better to be her friend than to make her an enemy. I've had some really horrible neighbors, MUCH worse than her - unlike them, she never bothered me, never made me regret moving here, never gave me any cause to call the police or the person in charge of city codes or anyone else. I also think that kindness is something that shouldn't have to be earned and that kindness makes the world a livable place; I'm kind to anyone, including people I don't like, and will continue to be until that kindness is taken advantage of or rejected or I become frightened of you for some reason.

I had planned on going to see my neighbor last evening, after I was home from Europe, because she had been so worried about me going, and had asked my husband how I was whenever she saw him. But I didn't go see her - I had to go to the emergency room from the airport for a little problem of my own I was having, and when I finally did come home, did a little unpacking, and had some Chinese food, I was exhausted from jet lag and my little medical issue, so I went to bed. I walked by her house this morning, and was told that she'd been taken to the hospital late last night.

My neighbor died this morning.

I doubt there will be a funeral - there's no money to pay for such, and I don't think she was in touch with any family, though I hear a daughter showed up at her apartment at some point today. Her apartment-mate has said he'll take care of her two dogs this month, and maybe next month, if he can figure out a way to pay November's rent, but that he'd appreciate my trying to find a home for them. I've already pretty much adopted one cat, but there's at least two more that need homes. I fear that I'll walk by in a few days and the place will be emptied and I'll never know what happened to the animals or her things.

Her flat-mate, whom she threatened to kill on at least two occasions with me, said "She was too mean to die", and I know she must have alienated a lot of people, including her family, if she has such; maybe she ruined so many birthday parties and Christmas's, asked to borrow money and called to be bailed out too many times, picked too many fights, and hurt and betrayed anyone who could have loved her - maybe her isolation was all of her own making. I get that, and I respect anyone's decision to cut off ties with someone who has hurt them so, even a blood-relation.

But I could judge her only on what I saw and experienced here and now, and what I saw was a woman who loved animals, whose compassion for them was true and deep, who was always happy to see me and who loved her neighbor friend that she spent so much time with. Am I and that neighbor friend the only two people in the world are mourning her?

I'll miss her stories. I'll stress over finding homes for these animals - I fear that one of the dogs will be branded as un-adoptable by whatever authorities decide such and will be doomed to be put down, and the cats will be forced outside just as winter begins. My husband will be annoyed at how much time I stress over this.

And whomever moves in to that apartment will be worse. Far worse.

I'm sad for my neighbor. My friend. I'm so sorry I couldn't be kind to her one more time.

100 cool things re: Forest Grove, Oregon

Since moving to Forest Grove, Oregon in late January 2013, I've been sending out tweets on my personal Twitter account, @jayne_a_broad regarding "cool things" about my life here.

Some things made the "cool things" list simply because they're in stark contrast to Canby, where, unfortunately, we spent our first three years back in the USA. And as I said in my first blog about this, when I travel, or am living abroad, I am often in this place of utter delight at each thing I encounter. But why not on a day-to-day basis? Why not treat where I live now as a place to observe and discover and delight in? Hence why I have been sending these tweets.

In just less than a year, I found 100 cool things regarding Forest Grove. Here are tweets 71 - 100:

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #71: We're getting a tappas bar!

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #72: My husband, @coyotetrips, finally gets to be a volunteer firefighter in the USA! @ForestGroveFire 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #73: Mysterious, ever-present John Wedell (Helmet John)  

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #74: Periscope used books 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #75: Opposition to Dream Girl Espresso, frequent buycotts of other, non-sexist coffee spots around town. 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #76: Having our historic(?!) home on the Friends of Historic Grove tour last month.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #77: The historic homes on the Friends of Historic Grove tour last month (not just ours!).

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #78: Corner Antiques & Collectibles (it's in what I think was a former gas station). 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #79: @AdelanteMujeres, nonprofit, works to educate and empower low-income Latina women and families.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #80: @awloregon: outdoor adventures for people of all ages, incomes, abilities. http://www.awloutdoors.com 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #81: Ronda, mentally-disabled, mostly deaf neighbor, walks block with a feather in her cap (literally).

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #82: neighbor teens included my dog in their homecoming pre-dance photo shoot  

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #83: the chalk art festival downtown a while back. Love how the artwork lasts so long. & the Dr. Who references. 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #84: Our house is on a geo cache tour. 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #85: Neighbor’s cat gets in our window, meow yells at us to spend time w/ her (but no petting allowed)

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #86: La Estrella Tacos is within walking distance from our house 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #87: Tiny cat loves the neighbor’s huge dogs, insists on walking with them.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #88: Free leaf pick up (or, at least, service included in local taxes we pay). 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #89: We’re so close to Verboort, for quick access to awesome annual Verboort Sausage Dinner. 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #90: In Spring, TriMet #57 will run every 15 minutes! 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #91: Playing pool before 9 at Diamond Palace on a Friday night (no crowds, cheap decent beer on tap)

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #92: Church of Christ minister across other street from us posted on FB wishing every1 a Happy Festivus.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #93: Association with Tabitha Brown, “Mother of Oregon”. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tabitha_Brown

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #94: Pacific University http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pacific_University

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #95: Neighbor’s dog howls with joy when she sees me. 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #96: Methodist minister & family across street from us painted an upstairs closet like a Tardis. Photo: http://www.ipernity.com/doc/jayne/29079087

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #97: Valley Art Association shop downtown - lovely items! Got a Christmas present for NEXT year. 

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #98: We gave a neighbor baked goods for xmas. He gave us elk meat. Now I have a v. happy German hubby.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #99: I’m not the only 1 out at 5:30 a.m. when my dog needs a walk (there’s other dog walkers & joggers)

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #100: That I found 100 cool things to tweet about here in less than a year of living here.

Will I do another 100 in my second year here in Forest Grove? I'm not sure. Best way to find out is to follow my personal Twitter account, @jayne_a_broad - I also tweet about travel!

Here's the first 35. And here's 36 - 70.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, redux

Since moving to Forest Grove, Oregon in late January 2013, I've been sending out tweets on my personal Twitter account, @jayne_a_broad regarding "cool things" about my life here.

As I said in my first blog about this: when I travel, or living abroad, I am often in this place of utter delight at each thing I encounter. But why not on a day-to-day basis? Why not treat where I live now as a place to observe and discover and delight in? Hence why I have been sending these tweets.

Here are the first 35. And here are the next 35:

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #36: Ravi Shankar - cat, not singer - running down block to greet me (I'd been out of town for a week)

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #37: Metro Master Gardeners ‏@therealdirt veggie-growing classes at the library.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #38: the annual pancake breakfast at @ForestGroveFire a few weeks ago. #nomnomnom

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #39: people that ask with great concern about Albi, my 16 year old blind pup, if they see me w/o her.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #40: Joe's Ice Cream Deli and Catering (50's styled soda fountain).

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #41: Most enthusiastic, vocal audience for a fireworks show ever. @ForestGroveFire

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #42: Calmest dogs at a fireworks show I have ever seen. Were they all given doggy downers?

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #43: Little girl neighbors hugged me after I gave them a bag of plums from tree in my yard.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #44: New neighbor taught me the ASL signs for BullSh|t and "Whatever!" (with eye roll)

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #45:
F G Sushi! Yummers!

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #46: group of little girls came to my door to pay me 78 cents for plums they picked.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #47: little girl saw me & Albi, begged to pet her. Huggeed her, asked if she could have her. Er, no.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #48: Methodists across street took my atheist plums with their donation to Catholic Church food bank.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #49: Ravi Shankar, cat that lives on corner of 16th & Birch. Same as #36. Yes, he's that cool.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #50: Took plums from our tree to several neighbors. Got raspberries and brownies in return.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #51: Gray cat that comes to my back door if she hears/sees me in my home office, demands I pet her.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #52: Flying lawn mowers:
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=325784557557624&set=a.325784237557656.1073741870.190558174413597&type=3&theater

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #53: @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival w/ @coyotetrips. #awesomesauce

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #54: possible to ride bicycles to @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival from our house (> a mile). w/ @coyotetrips

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #55: Kapa Hula Makani Kolonohe (traditional hula dance) at @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #56: Taiko Drumming - Portland Taiko @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #57: Tahitian Dance - Ora Nui Dance Studio at @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #58: Little girl wearing Batman t-shirt w/ yellow cape at @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival #parentalwin

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #59: Korean Oregon Infusion BBQ at @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #60: Ambacht Brewery specialty gourmet ales (No IPAs!) at @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #61: @SakeOne guy that explained differences in sake to me, @coyotetrips at Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #62: Demos by & friendly members of @JapanKarateNW from Hillsboro at @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Fest

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #63: FROZEN Saketinis!!! @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival w/ @coyotetrips #jesuslivesinsaketinis

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #64: Everyone invited to participate in Obon Dancing by Oregon Buddhist Temple @SakeOne's Annual Pacific Rim Festival

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #65: Uncorked wine festival in August, featuring LOTS of wine, even some whiskey, gin & vodka. Good food too!

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #66: We can ride our bikes to McMennimins.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #67: People in our hood don't water their lawns every dang day (learn something, Canby).

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #68: Asked @ForestGrovePD & @ForestGroveFire to post to FB re: not leaving pets in cars. & they did.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #69: Nicest postal service delivery folks EVER.

Cool thing re: Forest Grove, #Oregon #70: Hummingbirds!

To see future tweets as they happen, follow me on Twitter: @jayne_a_broad (account is focused on travel, motorcycle-riding, commuting, sci-fi - mostly fun stuff).