More free stuff from Craigslist.

From Oakland Veterans Memorial Building.
Oakland Registrar of Voters, etc.

Oh, the stories those chairs could tell, if they could talk. What butt sat where. I like the pictures too. Simple. Plain. In the backyard.

My parents didn’t believe in giving us toys at Christmas. Acceptable Christmas presents around my house were knives, clothes, and I remember one time they gave me a desk. A freaking antique desk. But this one Christmas they gave me a HO gauge train. At the time, I had this pet white mouse, Domino. He was a smart little fellow, and he adored that train. I swear he liked that train more than I did. Domino couldn’t wait to get in that open railcar and ride around as fast as the engine would take him. When I would stop, he would sit there, begging for more. Sometimes, he’d rest his arm like a person on the side of the boxcar while his whiskers whipped around in the rushing wind.

After a while, I’d have to stop and do my homework. I’d put him over on the antique desk with me. I’d let him run in and out of the compartments. I’d hear him chewing up things deep inside the desk. He’d run out to check and see if that was okay with me. I’d scratch his neck and let him know he could tear up all of the antique desk he wanted to.


5 Responses to “Domino”

  1. My father couldn’t understand why he had so many field mice in his garage, but unbeknownst to him every evening I would take soda crackers and mayonnaise lids filled with water and leave them in the garage for the mice. My father hated cats more than he hated mice so the mice were free to eat, drink, and multiply.

  2. There are those moments we never forget. We always had dogs or cats around the house. On occasion a bird. I remember my Dad bringing home a Basset hound. He’d seen an advertisement in the Oakland Tribune for a free dog. The lady who was giving it away had a house full of dogs that she was raising and selling. The dog scared me. He would put his paws up on my shoulders and want to lick my face with his slobbering mouth. The dog stood as tall as me, but I was just a kid. Dad put him in the backyard and every night he would howl. Needless to say after a couple of days, Dad took the dog back. I figured out, years later, what was wrong. The Basset was lonely. He went from a house full of dogs to being by himself in the back yard.

    The funniest thing I remember was with a parakeet we had. There were some people visiting and Dad wanted to show them how the parakeet would sit on his finger. He stuck his hand in the cage and the bird clamped down on his finger. I guess the bird was a little nervous with all of the people around the cage. Dad yanked his hand out real quick, with the parakeet still attached, and jerked his arm. The bird flipped across the room and broke its neck against the wall. The visitors tried to hide their chuckles, but my mother wasn’t very happy. I laughed and told Dad, that was the best trick ever. He cussed the parakeet and told me to shut up.

    Like I said, there are moments we never forget.

  3. Meeces. I see meeces in that garage, AZ. I do love the meeces.

    Your family sounds like mine, Steve. Pretty much a free for all. We had a Basset too. Damn thing bayed all the time. Drove me nuts and kept me awake. Dad took the dog to the barn to live but my bedroom window faced the barn and I could hear Winifred all night long with that lonesome bay. Tootsie, the pudgie beagle, was Winifred’s constant companion and between those two howling at the moon I don’t know how anyone got any sleep. Of course, there wasn’t much anyone out there.

    I don’t know what to think about the parakeet murder. That story sounds like something out of Monte Python. I bet your Mom let your Dad have it when the visitors cleared the premises. Did you have a parakeet burial? In a matchbox?

    One of my good friends told me that her parents had always told her the milkman ran over her dog until she was about 30. The family was sitting around chatting at some family dinner. They slipped up and said something about the day her Dad ran over Trinket. Maybe we should start a blog – Parents Accidentally Knocking Off Pets (PAKOP). I even like the sound of it – PAKOP. People could send in their stories.

  4. I don’t recall what happened to the bird. Probably was tossed with the garbage. PAKOP, now that is funny.

  5. My Dad offed a few pets himself, mostly chickens.

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