My brother John and his puppy
Benji is so grateful for all
the welcoming comments and praise for his good looks. He is especially grateful
to one anonymous fan who sent him a gift—wonderful health bar treats in a variety
of flavors and a chew toy he has not been parted with. I wish I had a name so I
could thank the donor, but I hope he or she reads this and knows how tickled we
were to receive this bounty and how grateful. Benji has found himself a special
place in the yard, by a tree, where he hollowed out a hidey hole and stashed
his favorites, such as the most ragged rope chew thing you ever saw. Now the
new bacon-flavored bone is there too, after banging its way around the cottage
while I napped. On the whole, Benji is really good about my naps—he puts himself
to bed in his crate.
The barking is getting somewhat
better. At least, I think so though I may be grasping at straws. He spent
periods quietly outside today. I think that advice that he needs to get used to
the neighborhood is spot on. In his previous home, as good as they were to him,
he did not spend much time outdoors. Now he’s outside every minute he can be,
although he frequently comes to the door to check and see that I’m still in
here. If his barking gets to be too much, I simply bring him inside, and he
takes this with good grace, going immediately to his crate. But he will emerge
to lie on the floor by my desk, and this evening, I could hear him and his bone
in the bedroom. Knock on wood, but so far he has not bothered one thing he
shouldn’t, and his food manners are good. He’s not a beggar.
I had a chance to test my own
food manners last night when Carol Roark picked me up for dinner at the Blue
Spire, the upscale dining area at Trinity Terrace, the high-rise retirement
community where so many of my friends live. It was one thing for Carol to
invite me, but another much bigger one for her to have to leave TT to pick me up
and deliver me after dinner. And on top of that to wheel me in the transport
chair because it is a very long walk from the front door to the elevator in the
newest tower which houses the Blue Spire. So I am most grateful. We had a delicious
dinner—veal piccata for me (Christian fixes chicken piccata frequently but I
never splurge and buy veal) and stroganoff for Carol. Beter yet, Carol and I
had a good visit. We don’t have get a one-on-one visit—we are part of a group
of four who dine together. But last night, it was just us, and I got a slide
tour of her recent trip to New Zealand (all those exotic birds and plants whose
names I can’t pronounce!) and she listened about Benji and the goings on of my
family and even my cooking. A lovely evening.
Tonight, my heart is heavy. My
92-year-old big brother is in the hospital—again! —and not doing well. He has always,
since I was small, been my protector, and as we raised our children, he filled
the roll of patriarch with admirable grace—my kids and his know their table
manners to this day! John and I have had our differences—politics! —but in the
last year plus, we have again become close, talking on the phone every four or
five days. And we have so many rich, good memories that they outweigh the
differences in our views and sometimes our lifestyle. I am not rushing to his
bedside, because I think that would be extremely difficult for both of us—we are
the last of our family on the side of our mother, my father, and his father. His
wife said she would she would ask what he wants, but I suspect he will tell me
not to come. And so I wait on tenterhooks. Prayers for peace and acceptance are
welcomed.
