​I was in Bloomfield, Iowa, when I first saw one; I thought it was the dumbest thing I'd ever seen. I turned my car around to make sure I saw what I thought I had seen - a pet wash? Yep. Right there on Highway 63, just a short distance from the downtown square. Since then, I've seen many others, and I'd shake my head each time. "Why? Why not just bathe your dog at home. Good grief." I suppose for the same reason, most people don't wash their cars at home anymore. The car wash is more convenient.
Several years ago, my wife and I visited a small farm in northern Missouri, near the state lines of Iowa and Missouri. The farm has been in Melissa's family for many years. Although her family does not farm, they lease the land to an area farmer.
When we visited, the farmer had cattle on the property. While we were engrossed in exploring the land, I kept calling our dog June to return to us. June was a border collie, blue heeler mix, and she really wanted to round up those cattle. Unbeknownst to me, June rolled in something mighty stinky in the cow pasture when we weren't paying attention.
I used what was left in my water bottle to rinse off the bad stuff from June, then wiped down her coat with an old towel. My attempt to wash her off only made matters worse, almost as if I had reactivated the stench. It was everything we could do to ride in the car with her, even with all the windows down! It was awful! It was a long drive back to Ottumwa, and then I remembered Bloomfield has a pet wash on the highway.
The drive to Bloomfield seemed pretty long as well. It was hot outside; I had the air conditioning on, but we had all the windows down because of old Stinky in the back of the car.  I swear we hit every light red going through town to get to the north side, completely stopping all air movement. Gag!
That day, I had my first experience with a pet wash in Bloomfield, Iowa, and I was impressed. Since then, I've used the one in Two Harbors, Minnesota, many times.
I like the "pet wash" concept. It's more comfortable bathing the dog without bending over the tub. I like having an overhead, spring-loaded, constant-temperature water hose that is always right there for me and comes on with the gentle squeeze of the handle. Having the shampoo dispensed with the water eliminates the bottle and the need for a third hand. I am not wasting water while shampooing June's fur; the pet wash makes sense. The super easy clean-up is very nice, too. I want to put one in my basement.
I asked June how she would feel about installing a pet wash in our home. She didn't see the need for one. She would rather not be bathed in the tub or the yard with a garden hose. In fact, she would rather not have a bath at all. June said everything would be fine if I just drove her to a lake once in a while, where she could chase a stick or a ball in the water and call it a bath.
I called my brother Dan, the plumber, to inquire about a home pet wash. He told me they start at about $3,000 and go up from there. Wow. It only cost me about three bucks to wash the dog in Two Harbors. If I bathe the dog once a month, a basic home model would take eighty-three years to pay for itself. I decided I would just keep taking June to the pet wash in Two Harbors.
As the years went on, June Bug passed away, and Nova Mae became a part of our family. Nova Mae is also a border collie and blue heeler mix.
 
Nova Mae enjoys running through ditches and puddles of stagnant water, which smells nasty! What is it with this breed, and why do they like stinky stuff anyway?
The pet wash in Two Harbors is in the same building as the car wash. The first time I took Nova Mae, she did just fine until the high-volume (very loud) air dryer came on in the automatic car wash bay. That scared the bejeebers out of Nova - so badly that I haven't taken her back.
There is a leash about ten inches long at the pet wash to keep your dog from jumping out of the basin. Even though June would jump out of the bathtub at home and at the pet wash at every chance she got, I've always figured if something scares my dog that badly, I want her to be able to run and not feel trapped.
June Bug and Nova Mae: the two dogs are so much alike in many ways and so different in others. June, loved to swim, but did not like getting a bath. On the contrary, Nova Mae doesn't mind a bath (she just doesn't like the water spraying on her face) but she only likes swimming if she can stand in the water.
With June, I had to lift her into the tub and give constant commands to sit and stay; it was a battle to the end, and I didn't always win. On the other hand, I turn on the shower and tell Nova, "Let's take a bath, and she voluntarily walks into the shower. I learned other neat things from the pet wash about bathing a dog.
I no longer apply shampoo directly to Nova's pelt. Instead, I mix the shampoo with about a gallon of warm water and wash the dog with a washcloth. The dog likes this method better because the shampoo rinses from her fur much quicker and more thoroughly. I also learned how to dry my dog.
I tell Nova, "Shake, shake, shake," each time, she gives a big shake, removing most of the water from her head to the tip of her tail her own. Then, I use a towel to get what water I can. From that point, I will let her "air dry."
From experience at the pet wash, I have learned not to use the hair dryer on my dogs; it's the equivalent of starting a fight. June despised the vacuum cleaner. (She once had a physical battle with a Dirt Devil.) The hair dryer at the pet wash sounded just like a vacuum. But I suppose some other dogs or pets would like the hair dryer.
We had a cat when I was a bachelor living with my brother Gerard. (Gerard and I both had hair back then.) When the cat heard the hair dryer, she would run into the bathroom, hoping for a blast of warm air in her face. Then, she would jump on the sink, insisting on more! But we never tried to bathe the cat.
The pet wash. What a cool concept! I've often wondered if anyone has ever attempted to take a cat to the pet wash, and if so, did they live to tell their story?

​It doesn’t matter if it’s your kid or not; nothing will get your attention faster than a young child who screams, especially if it sounds like they are hurt or in danger.
My daughter Delaney and I share adjacent birthdays; hers is November 14th, and mine is the 15th. When she was about four, I took her to a Denver Broncos football game to celebrate our birthdays together, just the two of us.
I’m not a huge fan of stadium food; however, I’ll admit that I like their overly salty hotdogs on a plain bun or with a line of yellow mustard. I also like their chips and nacho cheese, and I really like their giant soft pretzels with cheese, too. Okay, I do like stadium food, but I despise the high prices! For this occasion, I decided to splurge at the concession stand before the game started.
My kids were accustomed to hearing me complain about the stadium prices, so my daughter looked surprised when I said, “Get whatever you want, Delaney; we're celebrating our birthdays.” We ordered three hot dogs, two soft pretzels, an order of chips with nacho cheese, two glasses of pop, and a couple Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies instead of birthday cake. As I recall, it was around fifty bucks, and this was in the mid-90s. “Wow, that’s a lot of food,” I said. I wondered how I would carry this back to our seats.
I shoved the hotdogs in the left pockets of my oversized Broncos coat and the two cookies in the right. “Do you want a tray to carry this, sir?” the cashier asked. I gladly accepted her offer. The lady placed our drinks in the cup holders and stacked our food in the middle. It would still take two hands to carry the tray. How was I going to carry my daughter, too? She would have to walk.
“Delaney, grab my back pocket and stay with me,” I said as we began walking through the crowd.
There were plenty of bumps, ‘pardon me, excuse me,’ and a couple of ‘Hey, watch where you’re goings’ along the way. I kept checking, “Are you still with me, Delaney?”
She would reply, “Yep,” or “I’m here, Dad.”
Someone ran into a tall man, knocking him into me. He had very red hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing a giant foam Broncos horse head hat, which fell off his head. He wasn’t really that tall; he just looked tall because of the hat.
The man dropped several items from his tray, and a lid popped off one of my drinks. The man knelt down to get his hat and gather his items, but I didn’t want my lid back; those walkways were filthy.  We recomposed and got back on our way to find our seats. “Hang on to my pocket, kid,” I told my daughter.
After about twenty more steps, we got bumped again, pretty hard. This time, the pop in the open glass sloshed into the nacho chips. Ugh. Although I could feel Delaney's hand on my pocket, I asked, “Are you still with me, Delaney?” She didn’t answer. I called again, “Delaney?”
When I turned around to check on her, I dropped my whole food tray on the ground! Holding onto my pocket was a little boy with red curly hair! He was a cute kid, but not MY kid! My heart began to race, and I was instantly scared.       
I looked down the way we had come from. I couldn’t see Delaney but saw the tall man with a ponytail and horse's head hat. I recalled he had a kid with him, too. Maybe our kids got mixed up during that collision. I needed to catch him before he got any farther away.
I quickly picked up the little boy behind me with my left arm and started pushing through the crowd with my right arm toward the other man. There was ‘no excuse, or pardon me,’ it was “Get out of my way!”
The little boy soon realized I was not his father and started crying and screaming, “Daddy! Daddy!”
There I was, a man running, rudely shoving my way through the crowd with a kid under my arm, screaming for his daddy. If this didn’t look like an abduction, I don’t know what would have. The kid’s screaming and crying indicated he was in danger, drawing attention. People were trying to stop me, but I was on a mission and bounced them out of my way like Shannon Sharp running for the end zone with a football tucked firmly into his arm. Even a security cop tried to stop me, but I blew right past him, too.
As I caught up to the man with the red ponytail, he heard a kid screaming – it drew everyone’s attention, and I’m sure he recognized his kid’s voice. As I reached him, the security cop grabbed me from behind by the collar.
The man with the red ponytail and horse's head hat was confused and stunned, to say the least when he saw me carrying his child. “What the heck are you doing with my son?” he demanded, snatching his boy from my arm. Delaney was still holding onto his back pocket. A crowd was circling us to see what was going on.
“I believe you have my daughter,” I said, taking Delaney’s hand. “They must have grabbed the wrong pockets when we collided.” Meanwhile, the cop was dumbfounded as to what was going on.
I explained to the officer what had happened, and the other dad corroborated my story. “When an officer tells you to stop, you stop,” the cop scolded me.
“Not when I’m rescuing my kid,” I said. “Actually, two kids.”
“Even so. You need to stop when an officer tells you to do so,” the cop said. “We would have made sure both kids got back to their parents.”
I wasn’t going to argue with the cop, but can you imagine how scared my daughter and the other dad’s son would have been while sitting at a police station alone or at a stadium security office for a couple of hours while the police tried to locate their parents? Keep in mind that in the mid-90s, cell phones were pretty new, and most people did not have one. (Mine was a big Motorola bag phone mounted in my truck.)
The officer asked for my ID and wrote down my information, just in case, and we were on our way.
“Are you in trouble with that policeman,” Delaney asked with concern.
“Nope,” I replied confidently. “He’s just mad because I outran him, even with a kid under my arm.” Then I laughed, “If that policeman was a football player, he’d probably play for the Kansas City Chiefs because he wasn’t very fast.” We shared a good laugh about that. (At least I did.)
Delaney and I went to our seats. We bought a glass of Pepsi from the concessionaire selling in the aisles, enjoyed our completely mashed hotdogs (that must have happened when the boy was struggling to get away from me), and then devoured broken pieces and crumbs of Famous Amos chocolate chip cookies in lieu of birthday cake. The Broncos went on to beat the Chiefs by a wide margin that day, so all in all, it was a good birthday weekend!
I’ll never forget that birthday weekend, especially the little boy. In retrospect, it seems like a cruel thing to do, to just grab him and take off running, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to leave him there alone either. I think I’d do precisely the same thing if faced with that situation today, but I haven’t heard another kid scream like that until just the other day.
I was running errands in Duluth and Superior. I stopped at TJ Maxx first to return an item for my wife. Walking from the parking lot, I heard a young girl screaming hysterically. I saw her standing by her mom next to their car. The little girl kept screaming until her mom finally told her, “Calm down, I can’t understand you when you’re screaming.”
The mom must have thought her daughter was hurt as she looked her over. The girl was pointing upward in the air; I thought a bee had stung the child. I kept a vigilant eye in case they needed help. When the girl finally calmed down (a little), I could make out what she was saying: “Mommy, Mommy, look, it’s a rainbow!” The child was not hurt or in danger – she was just overly excited. “Mommy, can we chase it? Please? Can we go find the end?”
What started as a legitimate concern for the little girl's well-being soon became pure joy—the innocence of a child asking to chase a rainbow and find the end. I love rainbows, but it seems most of the time, we see only a partial rainbow. However, I’ve been blessed to see some pretty cool full arches.
Hillside Park was across the road from our house on Albany Street in Ottumwa. It was initially called Reservoir Park because it has a huge underground water tank. Because of the tank, there are no trees in most of the park, making it a great place to see rainbows.
It was raining one summer morning on the south and west end of town. The sun behind me created a rainbow that soon turned into a double, full rainbow! Wow!  
Another day, while driving east on Belknap in Superior, Wisconsin, I saw a huge, full rainbow. It was so big I couldn’t capture it on one screen for a photo; I had to take a video. I guess now these smartphones can take a panoramic photo. (Technology moves way faster than I do.) I’ve even had the pleasure of seeing rainbows from above.
It’s common to find rainbows below the viewing platform at High Falls, on the Pigeon River, bordering the United States and Canada. The mist from the waterfall frequently provides the sun with continuous opportunities to make rainbows on a sunny day, but they are small and only partial rainbows.
While driving in a remote, mountainous area in the west, I encountered an isolated rain shower in a valley. I was treated to a complete rainbow viewed from above. I’ve never seen such a thing since then. Again, I had to take a video as I was unaware of what “pano” meant on a cellphone, let alone how to use it.
I have seen a full rainbow over the water a few times, with rain showers over Lake Superior. I’d love to catch an iron ore boat sailing under a rainbow, but I wouldn't know how to photograph the phenomenon.
Open spaces are the best place to see rainbows, especially complete arches. Living along the north shore of Lake Superior provides about the most significant open area you’ll find—unless you go to the ocean.
When Melissa and I were in Hawaii, a local flying club manager told us how neat it was to fly between the islands of Molokai, Maui, and Lania. “When ships would lose power, the trade winds would drift them into the channel between the islands,” Kat said. “A lot of ships sank there. On a clear day, you can see dozens of shipwrecks in the water from the air; there’s an eight-mile stretch called Shipwreck Beach.” We rented an airplane and took off to see the shipwrecks.
I flew due east from Honolulu toward Molokai. It was a thrill flying over the Pacific Ocean along the north shore of Molokai. We rounded the east end of the island, flying westward along the south shore. With Molokai to our right and Maui off the left wing, we were headed toward Lanai and Shipwreck Beach. Just then, it started to rain. The isolated rain shower got heavier, and I decided to turn around and head back.
Although I was rated and qualified to fly in such conditions, there was no sense in intentionally flying into the inclement weather in an airplane with which I was not familiar. Besides, Kat told us it had to be a clear, sunny day to see the shipwrecks below the water’s surface. I landed the airplane at the airport on Molokai; maybe we could wait for the rain to let up.
Rain showers over the southern Pacific islands come up quickly and are generally short-lived. Unfortunately, this shower was hanging on.
Although we did not see any shipwrecks that day, we enjoyed a great airplane ride over the Pacific Ocean. The rain showers and sunshine entertained us on the ground at the Molokai airport and en route back to Honolulu with some of the most brilliant full rainbows I had ever seen. How would that little girl in Duluth have reacted had she seen the rainbows we saw that day?
It doesn’t matter if it’s your kid or not; nothing will get your attention faster than a young child who screams, especially if it sounds like they are hurt or in danger.
The little girl sure sparked a lot of memories and emotions that day by shrieking over a rainbow: she rekindled the fear I felt when I thought I’d lost Delaney at Mile High Stadium. The relief both dads felt when reunited with our respective children. She reminded me of the simplest of joys, like seeing a rainbow, and the hope and excitement in the innocence of a child. Mostly, she reminded me that I’ve been chasing rainbows my whole life; I still chase rainbows, looking for the end, and I hope I always will.