July 18, 1974

Inga and I share a melancholy moment in San Diego.
Inga and I share a melancholy moment in San Diego.

Moving back in with my parents at age 23 was not part of my master plan, but there I was – stuck in my old bedroom in San Diego. I’d blown my first shot at the dream – being a professional screenwriter. I didn’t have a plan B.

Inga and I catch some zzzzs on the family room sofa.
Inga and I catch some zzzzs on the family room sofa.

I needed a new launching pad. Academia had been kind to me. I applied to USC’s grad school. In those days, UCLA ran roughly $250 a quarter. I don’t have figures for USC, but it’s safe to surmise you can add a couple zeros to that even in ’74 dollars.  The only way I could swing it was if  I moved in with my parents and saved my pennies.

Inga and I lounge on the floor (I have no idea about the white fluff).
Inga and I lounge on the floor (I have no idea about the white fluff).

San Diego is a beautiful city. Everyone says so. Unfortunately, my parents relocated there during my first year at UCLA. My life-long friends lived in Santa Clara. What’s an introvert like me to do? Make new friends? I don’t think so.

I refinish an old desk in our San Diego backyard. Something I would never, ever do. But I did.
I refinish an old desk in our San Diego backyard. Something I would never, ever do. But I did.

I clung to an old friend, the one who never (willingly) left my side – Inga, the dog I brought home from the LA pound. Even when I didn’t deserve it, she gave me limitless love and devotion. If you need a friend who won’t let you down, someone steadfast and loyal who quivers with bliss at the gentle touch of your hand………..

Check out your local animal shelter. I’ve never been sorry I did.
Check out your local animal shelter. I’ve never been sorry I did.

Please do check out your local animal shelter, as I did and continue to do.  I’ve never been sorry.  Let me know your story.