Animals

Miss Sugar in the middle of an obviously caved-in bed, atop a white comforter, looking miserable.

Miss Sugar’s Moving Diary – Entry #3

There is nothing left in this house except the things that belong to me. My scratching post that looks like a bent toilet brush, my basket of toys and brushes. Best of all, my fuzzy, puffy pouf and of course, my food. I must face the fact that we are camping now. The furniture upon which I leave my fur is now but a memory. These humans cannot be reasoned with. Take note of my facial expression. This air mattress has no give!

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Miss Sugar looking content, caught mid-scratch with her hind paw in the air

Miss Sugar’s Moving Diary – Entry #2

My world is upside down, and not just because my belly is in the air in hopes of inspiring a tummy rub. The humans previously referred to as Father and Mother are nearly unrecognizable. They run past me in a blur of cardboard and crumpled paper, muttering to themselves and each other about not forgetting this or that. But the ultimate horror befell me this week. An occurrence so frightening that I dared not even consider its possibility. I will never get over it.

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Derek stands beside an entrance sign for Highway 101 south

In the Palm of our Hands

You know the kind of person who can tell you the street names and highlights of towns and cities they’ve visited only once? Well, I’m not one of those people. I have just dug through a mountain of receipts to remember where we have been! Lucky for us, we mainly drove on one road: highway 101 along the Pacific coast, from Washington to California.  …

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