The rain and cold finally went away this week. It was 86 here yesterday! Unfortunately, Max and Mason both came down with a cold so they’re stuck inside, sniffling, coughing, and drinking warm tea. Since I spoil them rotten when they’re sick, I don’t think they mind too much. The older kids say I’m going to turn them into little hypochondriacs. My response is, “I spoiled you, too, and you turned out just fine!”
When I was little, and got sick, my mom would keep me in bed, and spoil me, too. I got new coloring books and crayons whenever I felt bad and she always brought me the little lap tray to color on. I’d use it for eating, too.
There was a stray cat in our neighbor back then who everybody called Sox. Whenever I got sick, Sox would magically come meowing at our door. My mom would let him in and he’d stay in my room with me until I was all better. Then, he’d disappear again, only to reappear the next time I became ill. I think he was my guardian angel.
One day, we heard that Sox had passed away. He’d gotten too close to a car door just before a neighbor closed it. I cried and cried.
Now I have Percy, our very old, completely deaf, and almost completely blind terrier mix. We bought him for Frank years ago but Percy immediately attached himself to me. Whenever I get up, he gets up, and follows me. He cries so badly when I’m gone that we have to give him a sedative if we leave for more than an hour at a time. If we travel, he either stays with Ali (he gets along great with her dog) or he comes with us. We have never boarded him, nor left him with strangers. I know doing so would kill him.
His health problems are increasing in numbers as the years go by and I know he’s living on borrowed time. When I take a shower, Percy is waiting right outside the shower door for me when I’m finished, lying on the towel. When I get up to get more coffee in the kitchen, he’s right on my heels. When I come inside the front door, even if I’ve just stepped out to grab the mail, he barks a hello and wags his tail. Of course, then he keeps barking until I reward his loyalty with a treat. He sleeps on a big, fluffy doggy pillow at the foot of our bed now as he no longer has the strength to jump up on it. I don’t put him up there because his knees are so weak that they might break if he tried to jump down. He dislocated his knee jumping off the bed about three years ago.
I know this sounds sad but it isn’t. I’ve had a good, faithful buddy following me around, and being my friend, for many years now and I was appreciating him again today when he curled up on my left foot to take a nap. 🙂
This Week’s Masonism:
Mason has been doing frequent “surgery” on a sock puppet doll I made for him. Mason named the doll Bob. Yesterday, he performed a heart transplant, a kidney transplant and a brain transplant. Bob was in bad shape!!
As Mason once again started poking the doll’s chest, I said, “What are you doing to Bob now?
He replied, “I’m making his heart unshot?”
I said, “Oh, goodness! How did he get shot in the heart?”
Looking up from the surgery, Mason rolled his eyes, and said, “I don’t know, Mom. I wasn’t in the war with him!”
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