Grace Notes
__ In the business of rental property, I have experience only with government property, such as the HUD apartments that I manage for the Stockton Housing Authority. And within the five-inch-thick manual of rules and regulations, there is the allowance for an “emotional support animal.” This would be an animal that has been prescribed appropriately by medical or mental health care professionals. Much has been written on this subject, whether it’s in the housing industry, or travel, or restaurants, etc., and I’m thankful that so far, I’ve not had to deal with support animals other than dogs or cats. But out there in the big, wide world, someone will have a pony or a pot-bellied pig that is their emotional support animal. But never would I expect to hear of an emotional support alligator. Until now. Meet WallyGator, the only alligator in the United States who has earned his emotional support animal certification. He lives in York, Pa., with his devoted owner, Joie Henney. Wally came into Joie’s life six years ago at a pivotal time, having lost three family members and four lifelong friends in two weeks’ time. Depression hit him hard. That’s when a friend, who rescues gators, introduced Wally to him and suggested that Joie adopt him. It didn’t take long for Joie to realize that Wally is not your typical alligator, and Wally has become quite the local celebrity in Joie’s hometown. Joie brings him to restaurants, shops, and the mall, and he draws a crowd of admirers wherever he goes. Wally has never shown anger or aggression; Joie even sleeps with the gator and trusts him implicitly. He is as docile as any other indoor pet and has never bitten anyone. When Joie began treatments for cancer, he really leaned on Wally for support. That’s when a friend suggested he register the gator, and WallyGator is now a card-carrying, licensed, emotional support animal, which means Wally gets to tag along wherever Joie goes. I’ve seen and heard and learned a lot in my years of managing public housing, but I’m just glad I’ve not (yet!) been approached by a tenant wanting to house an emotional support alligator!
__ Did you go to the Kansas State Fair? We have not been there for several years and had hoped to go this year. But with the weather so unbearably hot, it just really didn’t interest me to join the crowd. As usual, when it is over I wish we had gone. Had I known there were “Flying Fools” — jumping from 20-, 40- and 80-foot-high boards into a pool of 10-foot deep water, I really wished we had gone. Not. There’s just nothing fun or entertaining watching stupid do stupid things. But hey, they all survived, so no harm done; right? Wrong. These performers know what they’re doing and know the risks. They know they are one miscalculation away from death at every jump. The troupe’s manager even says there is always the potential of death. Where’s the first kid who thinks he can do that, too? When adults do life-threatening stupid things and call it “entertainment,” I’m just not a willing observer. The fact that this group named themselves “Flying Fools” pretty much sums it up.
__ Did you catch the story on the news of Mike Fremont of Cincinnati, Ohio? Fremont is something of a running celebrity—he holds numerous running records in everything from the mile to the marathon. Running is a sport that he started in his late 30s, after the sudden death of his wife left him widowed with three kids, including a two-week-old. He didn’t start competitive racing until after 1992, when he was diagnosed with colorectal cancer and told by doctors he had just three months to live. Twenty years later, at 100 years of age, Fremont is a picture of health and holds an astounding five titles: world records for the fastest marathon time at age 80 and again at age 90; fastest half-marathon time at age 90 and 91; and the U. S. record for the fastest mile by a 96-year-old. But he has no plans to set any more world records. “I think I’m sensible enough not to try to run marathons at 100,” he says with a smile. You’re awesome, Mr. Fremont!
