Ode to a dog

As a child, I had big plans to write a book. Problem was, I didn't know what to write about. I went to my mother for help. She suggested I write about a dog.   Problem was, I couldn't get started because I couldn't think of a title. She thought of one for me, "Ode to a Dog."

I carefully printed the title at the top of the clean, white, lined page of my composition notebook. Problem was, I didn't have a dog so I didn't know what to write.  I'm not sure what ever became of that composition notebook. 

My mother was practically perfect in every way; however, she wouldn't let me have a dog no matter how much I pleaded for one. She knew who would ultimately be responsible for a dog....she would.  I got a turtle instead.

History repeated itself when I became a mother. My children also begged for a dog. For years, I stood firm and tried to give them substitutions for a one much like my mother had given me the turtle.

I gave my son a stuffed dog that barked and my daughter got one of those gross chia-pets that you water and green clover grows out of it. They still begged for a dog but I knew who would be responsible for it...I would.  

For my daughter's 9th birthday, we caved.  We arrived at the breeder's house and from the bottom of the pile of puppies, she pulled out the tiny, buff-colored runt.  She was so small she could fit in my husband's coat pocket.  

We took her home and quickly became smitten with our sweet girl.  She ran and played and cuddled. She was a wonderful dog.  Not once did she growl or snip.  She was practically perfect in every way except at an early age she went blind. 

Amazingly, she adapted quite well.  She got around just fine.  She could find me no matter where I was in the house.  At night, she courageously jumped out of one of the kid's beds and found her way to mine.  She was a brave little dog.  

She had a sense when one of us needed her. Problem was, at times, she just didn't know who needed her most. She would sit beside one of us and then jump down and find her way to the lap of another. She shared her love and concern with all of us.  

I became very attached to her.  Since she was such a special girl, I had a hard time going away and leaving her behind. I vowed once she was gone, that's when I would go to Europe with my husband.  

We lost our little gal in March.  She was 13.  Life without her has been an adjustment.  But, my husband and I were finally able to plan our trip to Europe. The daunting part of the trip came when he had to leave me in London while he traveled to Germany for business.

I was left alone in a country I had never seen before and I needed to be brave.  I thought of my sweet girl who would jump off the bed to find me.  If she could take a flying leap without the ability to see, surely I could find my way around London seeing the sights all on my own for three days.  

Walking around the city, I didn't feel alone. My sweet dog was with me every step of the way. I kept her picture in a locket around my neck. 

When my husband told me the day we were departing for the trip, I smiled. Our journey began on September 13... it would have been my little gal's 14th birthday.  Alas, Ode To A Dog. 

Sightseeing together in spirit!

Miscommunication and the missing check book

My husband is a word man.  He says what he means in as few words as possible.  Here's the problem: I hear his words, jumble them up in my brain and respond to what I think he said. Needless to say, this causes problems.  Our brains simply work differently.  The trick is to find the humor in it.

Several years ago, we decided to make some home improvements.  We opened a bank account that was devoted specifically for the project.  We had one check book that we passed back and forth between us to make purchases or to pay contractors.  Everything was fine until the check book went missing.  We blamed each other for losing it.

One day after hours of Christmas shopping, I called him to meet me for lunch at the mall.   We talked for the better part of our lunch hour about the whereabouts of the missing check book.  We took turns reminding each other about when it was used last (by the other person).

Fortunately, the lunch meeting was not completely lost on the missing check book.  We enjoyed the last few minutes chatting about the holidays and the gifts we were getting for our family.   I quickly forgot all about the missing check book.  My mind had moved on.

After lunch, he drove me to my car that was parked at the opposite end of the mall. At the time, I drove a blue Ford Taurus wagon.  I loved that Taurus wagon. Even though it was a station wagon, I thought it was stylish and pretty.   I felt good in it.  I found my keys in my purse and got out of his car.  The check book was far from my thoughts.

"Look good in your car, now," he said.

I quickly responded, "Oh, I always look good in my car."

He smiled, "I meant for the check book."

Me "looking good" in my car.

Final thought: If you're missing your check book, look in the pocket of your husband's raincoat.  That's where we found ours.