NEITHER RAIN, SLEET, OR HAIL

It’s my fault really.  Three years ago, we got a shelter dog in December. It rained and rained and…not the best weather to potty train a twelve week old pup. At that time we had not renovated the yard. With the Sacramento hardpan and the incline to Elk Horn Boulevard behind the back fence, each inch of rain transmuted into three inches of standing water in the backyard.

Poindexter’s stubby Bassett legs raised his body an inch and a half to two inches at best. When he squatted in the yard all but his shoulders and head were above water. The cold puddles made his sad eyes weep. He would not go out alone. Trained by a foster home before he was released to the pound, he refused to do any of his business inside the house. Good dog.

To keep the little guy from exploding, I slipped on my housecoat and UGGs, tromped into the flooded yard, and stood vigil over my peeing-pooping pup. Every two hours. Every Day. Every night. Dex went on command in waters chin-level without a whimper. On particularly bad days, I let him pee into a pile of leaves I had arranged on one corner of the patio. That did not serve him for number two.

Eventually, it stopped raining. Dex got taller—not by much. He braved any weather on his own. I thought my rain duties had ended.

            I dare anyone to come up with a more pitiful looking mug than a Bassett mutt holding a mangled Frisbee and whining at the patio door. Yes. He will do his business in the rain but play? No. The sad face and ear-splitting whine continue until I don my raincoat and schlep out into the wet for a game of fetch. Dex will play until he drops as long as I am soaked too. As I stated earlier it is my fault. I trained him.  

Hawkeye

I am eating spoonfuls of It’s Soy Delicious non-dairy frozen dessert. It looks like ice cream and tastes like chocolate and nuts.  I am celebrating finding my earring or rather my dog Poindexter finding my earring.

A few days ago, I wore a pair of gold and onyx medallion-shaped earrings. My mother purchased them a few years back. I love the look but the onyx is too heavy and due to the price of gold these days the hooks are too light. They forever fell out of my lobes. Aware of the problem, I took extra care to remove the earrings as soon as I came into the house. Or so I thought.

That evening, I came into the bedroom to start my bedtime ritual only to find one earring missing. I retraced my steps. (Sure you have done this yourself.) First the car, perhaps it popped off when I unhooked the seatbelt.  The bathroom where I pulled off my I-know-you-cannot-tell-I-had-cancer-treatments wig. The hallway, the area rug, the bed, the shower, toilet, everywhere. The earring disappeared into Monday night.  It had value especially as it had been a gift from Mom but I just went through this last month with my diamond studs. I have one but lost the other.  

The expert finder of lost things was Paul, my husband. When we first dated, he earned the nickname—among others—of Hawkeye. I swear he could find a silver earring back in shag pile carpeting at eight paces. A true talent.  Without his help, my recovery rate for things is sadly low. I gave up on finding a quarter-sized gold disk anywhere in the house.

Today, I dug through more boxes of Paul’s things for the storeroom, setting aside photos for uncle John, toys for nephew Kodie, and worthless correspondence to the recycle bin. For a long time I held his high school yearbook. Opened one page and then another later in the day. What does one do with a yearbook? We have no children or grandchildren to pass things along. His parents are dead. His friends own the same album. This question bugged me all day.

Netflix provided me with a diversion for a couple hours. I discovered a Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright series, House of Cards. Well acted and produced, I lost myself and my memories in a political drama which was not too intellectually challenging. 

My dog put up with the drama for as long as he could. The sun set and the temperature dropped below ninety degrees. Dex wanted to play. After some whimpering and herding on his part, I tossed his Frisbee in the dusky eve. He leaped and spun for joy.

I thought. It is not so terrible to keep a yearbook mixed in with the photo albums. It is as unlikely it would be opened in the next ten years as it had been in the last. I do not need to give away or toss everything to move on with my life…it’s just a book.

Dex flipped the ignored Frisbee on my foot which caused drool to spill off the edges onto my naked foot. I bent down to retrieve the toy and saw the glisten of gold next to my heel. Without seeing the object itself, I knew I found the earring—the onyx one not the diamond—in the grass. Perhaps Monday, we had played Frisbee before I changed from my work clothes. Unlikely, but possible.

I had my earring. I properly thanked Poindexter with a “good boy” and a pat on the back.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Watermelon.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Watermelon.

Lunch: One soy corn dog and salad.

Snack: Watermelon.

Dinner: Vegetarian pot stickers, mung bean sprouts.

Snack: It’s Soy Delicious non-dairy frozen dessert Chocolate and Almonds.