Here we are, the old fart and I. This picture was taken in 1992 with the Pacific Ocean behind us. We were visiting Michael's family in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Lurch and Maggie, the two Great Danes (mostly). Couldn't get Maggie to sit still for the picture, thus the goofy look. That's ok, Danes are goofy anyway. Maggie we raised from a tiny puppy, and Lurch was found on the road by a friend who kindly brough him to us. He was housebroken, so we kept him.
Rosie, psycho dog. Here is the one you have to watch out for. She will bite. No one believes me, but since we have a 6 ft. electric fence (to keep Lurch in, he jumps) they won't find out. The only co-operative thing she's done in her stay with us is pose for this picture. She just sat down and looked at me. Yes, she is sitting down. Hard to tell.
Three of the outside cats, Boris, Seamus (pronouced Shay-mus), and Charlotte. Boris is the squinty white cat, of hunting fame. He's caught all sorts of birds, moles, gophers, a rabbit, and once an escaped gerbil. Seamus is the big hairy cat, though he's in the middle of the spring moult in this picture. He's huge, cuddly, and hates Louie, the inside cat (that's why he's inside). Charlotte's the one with her head in the bowl. She had a sister, Emily, who has been missing for about a month now. I don't hold out much hope for Emily's return.
You will have to imagine pictures of two yellow cats, Albert and Melrose. They are shy and run from us, even though we raised them. Ah well, cats.
Yup, here he is, the man himself. This is Louie Mack. Since my last trip Louie has decided he doesn't like me anymore and is solely Michael's cat. He'll tolerate me, since I clean the litterbox and feed him. Typical. Louie is the sworn enemy of Seamus. At the moment, he's limping from a time that he snuck out of the house and they got into a fight. He also complains a LOT, all day, in fact. He's complaining right now, in fact. Arrgh.
