My dog Bill when he was young, doing what he does best: yawning, panting, and scratching.

Glad to be home.

Bill died on Dec 16, 1998. He was swarmed by ticks during the 4 month quaranteen required by Hawaii, and we finally had him treated with a serious, can't-use-it-twice insecticide. A few days later, Maureen discovered all the dogs removed from Bill's row in prison except for Bill, and we believe that the Quaranteen Station did some heavy duty spraying with organophosphates but didn't bother to move Bill. Maureen at this time was publicly agitating for a 1-month quaranteen, and we surmise this was a bit of passive-aggressive retaliation from the station. Like the rotten meat we found in Bill's cage and Peter's prescription cat food which steadily disappeared at the rate of 20 pounds per week.

Bill never regained his weight after quaranteen, and in February 1998 suddenly became terrifically weak and sick. After $3000 in vet bills we learned nothing other than it looked like some sort of neuromuscular problem and steroids were the only thing that slowed Bill's deterioration. It's possible that this was some sort of auto-immune disease or it could have been poison.

After 10 months of hell, Bill decided that he'd had enough. He was playful in the morning although much too weak to do anything like climb stairs. He went out in the afternoon and we never saw him again. I searched very hard for the next week, and I know that wherever he went it was very, very far away and that he didn't want to be found. Bill was the best dog I have ever known. Gentle, incredibly intelligent, good humored, with a real wit.

Requiescat in pace, Bill.

My cat Peter during his stay in prison, and later on chilling out at the pool. Peter was the most affectionate cat I've ever known, always pushing to be friendly, and very good buddy for many years. He was very physical about it, too. If you did not pay attention to him he would throw himself down against you sideways, sort of a NHL hip check. If it didn't work he'd get up and do it again. Obnoxious. Naturally he had a very loud purr.

Peter died in January 2001. He became diabetic during his stay in quaranteen, but he was so good natured that he never objected to his daily jab. He got skinnier and skinnier as the years went by, but was always his obnoxious, bumptious self. One night he started crying out in distress so I spent the night on the floor stroking him. He slipped into a coma during the night and I had him put down the next day.

My latest cat George is a bit of a hellion, as you can see.