Doug Clark

The letters at the T&A; Housecleaning Service sure don't stand for Tide and Ajax. As further proof that Spokane is no longer the drowsy, Leave-it-to-Beaver city it once was, a topless maid business opened the other day. "The telephone has been ringing off the hook," says Naomi Leong, the 24-year-old entrepreneur who dreamed up this titillating venture.

I know a town in Spokane County where everyone has a good job and everyone tries to get along. Pipe bombs don't explode at City Hall. Obnoxious Hells Angels don't prowl the streets. There are no racist threats aimed at black law students or murders committed with baseball bats and guns. The best part is that you don't even have to leave Spokane's city limits to find this haven of harmony.

There must be an angel looking out for Patrolman Barry O'Connell. Actually, it's more like six angels and the Spokane Police officer is putting out an all-points bulletin to round them up.

Jimmy Novinsky shows his stuff. Photo by Christopher Anderson/The Spokesman-Review

Once upon a time, there was a radio station that beamed nothing but good news and family values to the children of the land. The airwaves bounced with toe-tapping tunes from Disney and the Muppets, educational games and imaginatively told tales of enchantment and adventure. But unlike a fairy tale, the cold, cruel business world is one tough place to find a happy ending.

'Why are people still so fascinated by your criminal past?" Even after selling 3.5 million books, appearing on countless TV and radio shows, being the subject of a Hollywood movie and being paid to speak at hundreds of gatherings, Frank Abagnale still is puzzled by the question.

Lynn Stempniak and her son John Kraemer. Photo by Dan Pelle/The Spokesman-Review

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"And may you stay - forever young." - Bob Dylan Eastern Washington University microbiologist Jim Fleming has discovered a way to boost life expectancy as much as 20 percent. Unfortunately, the Spokane resident can as yet only perform this miracle on fruit flies. "These are the same ones you find on your bananas," says Fleming, peering into a milk bottle occupied by 100 flitting fruit flies.

Swish. Swish. Swish... That's the sound of a perfectly executed free throw as the basketball cuts a graceful, 15-foot arc and then rips through the netting hooked to an 18-inch metal hoop.

Just because we wear shoes and live in a big city doesn't mean we can't learn something from our cousins out there in the bumpkin patch. Which is why Spokane residents should follow Omak's example and adopt our own version of Goat Day. No, you don't need to change the batteries in your hearing aid. I said Goat Day.

I've made a career out of going to bat for the underdog. Once in awhile, though, an underdog needs a little common sense batted into them. Such is the case with Chris Harrington's 18-month quest for automotive justice.

Pam Gunn is retiring after more than 50 years of waitressing. Photo by Dan Pelle/The Spokesman-Review

If the turnout at my first bunny hunt is any indicator, Spokane Police Chief Terry Mangan and his trusty scattergun have charged up this bizarre sport more than a six-pack of Energizer batteries. Twenty-three cars and about 50 people gathered for this electronic version of hide-and-seek. In this game, however, the hunters use CB radios to track down someone who hides (the bunny) and then continually broadcasts from the unknown location. Mangan is the Elmer Fudd to these wascawy wabbits.

What's the matter with people in this city? , Where's the deluge of irate letters to the editor? Why haven't any placard-waving protesters stormed the courthouse demanding County Prosecutor Jim Sweetser's political head on a platter?

This is the saga of Buddy the dog and the woman who loved him too much. Had Dolores Nelson not been so blinded by affection, she would have realized her precious pet had a mean streak in him. For a piece of rope, a couple of warning signs and a little common sense, her 50-pound Rottweiler mix could have dodged a bloody Wild West ending: A bullet between the eyes from a deputy sheriff.

He can't sit still. His legs move. First one, then another. His feet tap. His hands open and close. He squirms and fidgets in his chair like a preschooler at a Communion service.

Washington State Patrol brass brag that their troopers are under no quotas to enforce the rules of the road. That's true - except when there's a wad of public money. Angry officers from Spokane to Seattle complain the patrol's annual push to inspect commercial trucks is a blatant quota that wastes their time, hassles drivers and sucks up your tax dollars.

The Clark political juggernaut was humming like a fine Japanese import. Big Mo had pitched her pup tent in my campsite. And for a fleeting, seductive moment at Tuesday night's GOP caucus I tasted the heady brew of power.

Little Miss Self-Esteem lit up a joint with her pals outside P.M. Jacoy's on a recent Saturday afternoon in downtown Spokane. She didn't see my sad expression gazing back at her through a window from inside the store. It wouldn't have mattered had she bothered to look my way. By her self-satisfied smirk, it was obvious the teenager didn't give a rip about drug laws, what adults might think or anything else that would keep her from immediate gratification.

Veterinarian Luther McConnell takes the convalescing bald eagle out for a bit of sunshine. Photo by Kristy MacDonald/The Spokesman-Review

A river of humanity runs through this nondescript Spokane office building on Second Avenue. Take my advice and try not to get any overflow on your shoes. I wasn't so lucky the other day when I voluntarily stepped inside to take my very first drug screening. The good news is that I was found free of mind-bending illegal substances - a fact that may shock some of my readers and more than a few disgruntled city officials.

A reminder north of the Monroe Street Bridge honors Felicia Reese in early 1995. File/The Spokesman-Review

They're smokin'. "Usually I'm in jeans and a sweatshirt when I'm smokin' a stogie," says Karyn Neils, 24, who attended a cigar dinner at Patsy Clark's for her father Rob's 51st birthday. Photo by Kristy MacDonald/The Spokesman-Review