MEMORY OF A PET                                                                           AUGUST 25, 2014


I never did have a dog of my very own until I was all grown up at 38 years old.

Son Gary had a little one, “Woofles,” when he was 4 years old, but she wasn’t mine, all mine. She was his, his, his! We were living at the south end of Laguna Beach on Victoria Dr. ‘way up above the ocean on the cliffs in a four-level home, if you can imagine that. Garage on street level, second level office and storage; third level huge living room across the front, then large dining room, den, humongous kitchen, and the service room, also oversize. Then the top floor (4th level) with 3 bedrooms, 3 baths. The ocean below, with waves crashing against the rocks, made nice night sounds.


About 8 years later we were then living in a duplex right smack dab on the beach, on Ocean Front in the area of the Coast Inn. The building was built from the street level, so garages were on that level along with a 2 bedroom apartment, which I rented to Marine Officers from the Base in El Toro. You had to go down one level for the large apartment. As you entered, there was a bedroom on the left, and you had to take a few steps down to get to it. On the entry level to your right was another bedroom, and across the hall and forward there was another bedroom with windows across the front looking out into the living room below, and to the ocean. Down more steps to the living room, dining area, and kitchen area— 2 stories high and wide open with 14 foot windows so you could get a real good glance of the ocean. The deck outside was patterned after a ship’s deck. It was quite smashing. Underneath the living room there was a space built with the flooring of huge planks set apart so that when there was really high tide the waves would come up under and had a place to release some of the force. Yes, it was smashing. We didn’t have Wuffles – she had gone to her eternal rest, and since Gary was now in high school, with football, and baseball, we just couldn’t take care of another little friend.


Leave it to me — I have been writing some more extraneous stuff. You all know how that goes — my mind keeps looking around inside my brain and starts remembering more than I bargained for, and it keeps egging me on to write it down — before I forget.


The main topic is now coming up. In case you have forgotten, the main subject is supposed to be about a pet. A friend of mine, Mickey, from the San Fernando Valley was coming down to visit me for a week. I used to keep a calendar just marking down week end visitors, or they might run into each other with their luggage at the front door. Then someone would have to flip a coin as to who would go to a motel.


When Mickey arrived, there in her arms was this adorable chocolate mini poodle puppy all full of vim and vigor, straining to get to me!. With that, Mickey puts the little tyke in my arms, and says “Here’s your present for today!” I called her ELOISE after Kay Thompson’s book, “Eloise,” about the little girl who lived at The Plaza, a hotel in New York City, and all about her hilarious escapades. She had the run of the place. Incidentally, Kay Thompson was a tremendously popular icon-type night club entertainer, who had 3 gorgeous guys backing her up, all in tuxedos, singing and dancing very elegant routines, mostly in New York nightclubs, but would be out on the road, where I caught her act in San Francisco.


There I go again — Memories just create more Memories for me and I can’t help myself. The story goes South.


I just knew I was going to have a fun, interesting life with my new BFF. I don’t know what she expected, but it couldn’t have been what it turned out to be. The home she came from — and incidentally, Mickey bred these little chocolate poodles as a business, so daily routines were much different than mine. I guess Eloise was quite confused with the life style. We didn’t get up too early — she was okay with that — but then I had to leave at 5 o’clock to be at whichever bar or restaurant I had at the time, and that meant I wouldn’t return home until late, usually after 2 am. We would play for a little while, and would have a little snack; then off to bed. Same routine the next day. She was settling in just fine and dandy. Our days were just great. We could romp around on the beach, play “go get the stick,” or take a walk down the beach and visit my bar, Los Ondas, or maybe we had to go shopping, or maybe go visit somebody. There were lots of things to do during the day, and she seemed to thrive on that lifestyle. We had each other all day long, then she could just sleep away in the dark night till I came home.

I’m going to close out this story for now. I have been trying to find pictures that I thought I could put my paws on in a flash. Where are they, when I need them? Have been trying to find them all day. Have to realize I have 4 or 5 bins of photos, and I don’t want to drive myself any crazier than I am right now.

Later, Gang



MELITAS FORSTER                                                           MONDAYS WITH MELITAS


Eloise & I on beach in front of our home. Bldg. in picture not ours -next door neighbor.

Eloise & I on beach in front of our home. Bldg. in picture not ours -next door neighbor.





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