Gehlke Family News & Views

The kittens showed up on our porch on June 15. We were sitting in our living room on a pleasant Thursday afternoon when we heard what sounded like a cat meowing in a high-pitched voice. Phyre? Not likely, so Glenn went out to investigate. There he found Nomad waiting for us like usual, and right behind her was something unexpected — a tan and gray tabby kitten. Unexpected because, although we suspected she’d given birth recently after missing in action for a few weeks, we’d had yet to see her kittens since her return to our yard and feared the worst that maybe they had been conveniently disposed of (kittens being cute but a burden to raise.) Now here one was, a hungry little ball of fluff that kept following mom around trying to latch onto her belly for a drink. It didn’t take long to discover it was a male. It was while we were oohing and aahing over the cute little tabby that we caught a glimpse of a second kitten — this one part-tabby up front and a bit of tuxedo cat in the back — lurking beneath the front of Roni’s car. It was too shy to come out to meet us, but like its brother, it was cute as could be. And as hungry.

We’d been concerned about Nomad since her return. She never was a very large cat, but lately she looked downright emaciated. Her spine and rib cage were starting to become noticeable, especially when she expectantly sat on her haunches whenever we attempted to pass by her. (And yes, it is always an attempt because she is as fierce as an NFL lineman trying to prevent a fullback from running up the middle.) It was only a matter of time before she tugged hard enough on our heartstrings that we favored her with a scoop of leftover kibble from the fifty-buck bag we’d been forced to buy for Phoenix while he was in decline.

Feed a cat once and you’re a cat owner for life. Or maybe it’s that the cat owns you. Whatever it was, she’d started showing up on our porch daily after that, and we obliged her with more of Phe’s food because she was clearly starving and we had the food to give, seeing as Phe is no longer around and we don’t want Phyre eating it. Phe was always a picky eater even when he was in good health, but Nomad would have eaten the entire bag in one sitting if we’d let her. Anyway, she must have told her kids where to find the grub, because on the day we met them they got their first handout: a bit of cat milk we still had in the refrigerator from the days of Phe.

Well, the tabby got some of the cat milk; his sibling wouldn’t venture nearer than the driveway even though mom and brother were greedily lapping up all we’d set down for them. We began referring to it as “shy guy” because it kept its distance the entire time and eventually found its way under Glenn’s truck, where it crawled into the wheel well to sit in a sunny spot on top of one of the huge tires.

HE KITTENS HAVE since become daily visitors, with and without mom, and we have continued to feed them cat milk and a bit of dry food, both of which they greedily accept. It has taken time, but even the shy one has become slightly less apprehensive around us, which is a good thing because it is the runt of the litter and needs to take advantage of the food its brother has no reservations about devouring.

Their personalities have formed the basis for the names we have bestowed upon them, although Roni says it isn’t a good idea to grow too attached to them because she thinks they will yet be given away to “forever” homes. Not that they don’t consider us to be their forever home.

The tabby Glenn has taken to calling Laser because he makes a beeline to the food the instant it appears. Ben isn’t sure that’s the best name choice and thinks that Dart or Bullet might be more fitting. But we are clearly of a similar mind that the little guy is quick and fearless. He’s not under-fed, that much is certain. Aggressive as heck, is more like it. He’ll push mom out of the way for food, and one afternoon when Phyre accidentally escaped from the house onto the front porch while the little ones were eating, Laser romped right up to him was checking our cat out like the brave (and perhaps foolhardy) explorer that seems to be.

Meanwhile, we have been unanimous in our name choice for his brother: Skittles. Skittles sounds like skittish, which the little shy guy most definitely is. And a shy guy is what he is, which took us several days to find out because he rarely gets close enough for a peek at his privates. We’ve gotten smarter about how we feed them, pouring a bit of milk for mom and Laser to feast on while Skittles gets his own dish, hopefully to make his way to it and drink some before the other two finish theirs and realize he’s got more and push him out of the way to get at it.

OW THEY CAMP out in the shade of the bench underneath Ben’s window each day, waiting until they hear the creak of the screen door to alert them that one of us has been foolish enough to venture outside. It’s like running into a band of highwaymen on a dusty trail in the Old West, waiting to demand one’s riches. They show up at dawn and stay until after sunset, curling up as a trio on one of the deck chairs we keep on the porch. The kittens romp and play in the front yard, stalking each other, tackling weeds and chasing unsuspecting critters.

A couple of days ago we were sitting in the living room with the screen door open to let in some cool air when we heard something bump up against it. We went over to investigate and found Nomad chomping on a very fat western fence lizard, her kittens watching with interest. Ben attempted to save it, but it was too mangled and didn’t survive. While we enjoy the presence of the cats, we would prefer them to leave our lizards alone.

Roni has speculated that the reason the cats aren’t better fed is that the neighbors may have gotten Nomad for the purpose of pest control. She is barely a year old herself, and we have seen her prancing through our backyard with a rat clutched in her jaws. A good mouser she may be, but she has also been seen stalking birds and carousing with feral male cats that are no more neutered than herself. We wonder if she gets more than one meal per day at home, or if she gets any food at all.

But for now, the cats appear to be ours, possession being nine-tenths of the law and such. It’s not that we have chosen to adopt them, but they have adopted us. Some people (most) would be less charitable, not appreciating wayward cats roaming their yard, digging in their plants, pooping in their sand, lounging on their patio furniture, tormenting their other cats or dogs. But we are cat lovers with full hearts and an empty home now that we’ve lost Katy and Phoenix. We can’t take them in officially — what would Phyre think? — but we can love them within our capacity to do so, feed them what we can to keep them from starving, and enjoy the benefits of virtual pet ownership.

T'S BEEN AN unusually slow month, even for it being the start of summer. Our weather has been very un-summer-like lately, with mostly mild days followed by chilly nights that have required sweatshirts for evening walks around the block. That should change as we head into July and see our first real heat wave brewing.

Meanwhile, we’ve been enjoying the pleasant weather on the rare occasions when we have had to venture out and about. One of those days came June 14, when Glenn had to commute to San Francisco for a half-day work meeting with colleagues from Bay City News and Local News Matters. During the pandemic, most of the organization’s business was conducted remotely, and while gathering news and information generally doesn’t require a lot of time sitting in a crowded office, there are certain aspects of it that are helpful to do in person.

It was the general consensus of BCN staff that folks wanted to continue working remotely, post-COVID. But there was still a desire for networking time, so it was decided to meet roughly on a quarterly basis at off-site retreats. This one just happened to be in San Francisco at the Cooley LLP conference center, which is located on the 21st floor of Three Embarcadero Center overlooking the Bay and shipping piers along the outer edge of the downtown Financial District.

Unlike the previous two San Francisco conferences that were marathon day-long affairs running from 9 to 5, this one took place on a Wednesday and started at the more forgiving time of 1 p.m., which meant a commute on a mostly empty BART train from Antioch to the Embarcadero station downtown, followed by a short walk to the shopping plaza where Cooley is located.

About two-dozen people attended the meeting, at which we got to meet a new batch of summer news interns and break into discussion groups centered on new initiatives and expanding our coverage to underserved communities around the Bay Area. It is shocking, given the attrition of traditional news media during the past two decades, how many “news deserts” exist in the Bay Area, which is one of the most populous and prosperous regions of the United States. Major cities such as San Jose, San Francisco and Oakland continue to receive coverage, while suburbs such as Richmond, Hayward and Fremont receive almost none aside from the occasional reports of fires, lootings and shootings.

Bay City News focuses on the daily news cycle for its television, radio and print clients, while Local News Matters (where Glenn works) is the public-facing nonprofit whose aim is to provide community news of government meetings, events, arts and entertainment, analysis, and issue-oriented coverage of topics ranging from homelessness to racial equity.

The June 14 meeting was productive, perhaps especially because the entire agenda was packed into four hours instead of eight, and there are plans to meet again sometime in late July or early August, but hopefully the next one will be in Oakland, which would be a bit easier on the commute.

PEAKING OF RACIAL equity, this month marked the first year since Juneteenth was declared a federal holiday in 2022 that many communities had a chance to plan full celebrations in its honor, including Oakley. Our city’s Juneteenth festival took place June 17 in Civic Park around the bandstand, where a dozen booths were set up and a cover band played classic blues and funk tunes from the 1970s.

Roni was there for work, staffing the Ironhouse Sanitary District booth to provide public information and entertainment for the families who stopped by with their young children. For the first time, her booth included a large paper mural that the kids were invited to help color throughout the day. They responded by filling in the predesigned scene as well as going outside the lines with improvised depictions of birds, rainbows, and boyfriends, not to mention one disembodied head that floated in the middle of the mural after its creator had to depart before getting to finish their drawing.

The show was sparsely attended, which could have had something to do with it being the start of summer vacations for many families, as well as the fact that it didn’t get a lot of promotion. A larger crowd is likely next week when the city hosts the annual Summer Festival downtown, a continuation of what used to be the Oakley Cityhood Celebration and fireworks show before the fireworks were discontinued during the pandemic. Roni will be there, too, and hoping to stay cool on what is expected to be a hot weekend.

OMETHING RATHER UNUSUAL happened in June that hadn’t occurred in more than three years in our investing adventures — we went nearly five weeks without a single option trade. That is both a reflection on how illiquid the options market has become recently and our ongoing efforts to undo the major damage that was incurred during 2022 as we whittle away at the margin debt in our taxable account.

With a few exceptions, most of the trades this year have been for maintenance purposes — rolling naked put contracts further out in time to avoid assignment and having to buy thousands of dollars worth of stock that we don’t have the cash to cover. The flip side of that dilemma has involved stocks we already own but would rather not lose, as in the case of Apple (AAPL), which has cost us dearly on its ride up to all-time highs since the beginning of the year. In that case, we sold covered call options with much lower strike prices than the $190 per share the stock trades at today, leaving us out thousands of dollars should those contracts get exercised.

AAPL was the one trade we had to do this month that broke our five-week optionless streak. On June 28, we closed out our July 21 150.00 call for nearly $3,900, rolling the entire position out to next June and partially absorbing the loss to open a 180.00 covered call and a 190.00 naked put to recover about $4,200 in premium. What that means is we are betting that the stock trades somewhere around that range 12 months from now. If it stays below $180, we keep the shares but have to buy back the remaining value on the put; if it trades above $190, then we keep all the premium from the put contract but have to roll the covered call to avoid losing the shares.

It is all a delicate balancing act, made more challenging by having to juggle large amounts of margin debt, hence the reason we’ve been trying to eliminate outstanding contracts where possible while the markets have been trending up recently. Adding the 190.00 naked put on AAPL this week increases our margin balance by roughly $7,000 due to the rules of the brokerage account that require roughly one-third of the contract amount to be secured in cash or available margin. In short, when times are good you don’t worry too much about margin debt. When times are bad, on the other hand — as they have been since November 2021 — even a little bit of margin can hurt in major ways. As we can attest.

That’s going to wrap it up for June. Enjoy your Fourth of July weekend and we’ll have more to share next month.

The virtues of virtual pets

Glenn, Roni and Ben