The San Francisco Chronicle reader had a love problem: "General Custer is my twelve-year-old racing pigeon. I just bought a year-old hen. I have introduced them and they get along fine. I'd like to breed them. What do you think about the prospects?" Chronicle Columnist Frank E. Miller knew the answer to that one: "Custer might still be good for one last stand."
For a teen-aged boy whose horse, Cheyenne, bit him whenever his master's back was turned ("usually in the seat of the pants"), Miller's advice was equally direct: "Face Cheyenne." Nor was Miller buffaloed by the dilemma of the dog-doting...
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