Dog Days
Dog Days
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Sweet Home Alabama: Lynyrd Skynyrd
I still remember one of our Toronto neighbors telling Kat shortly after we got Buddy, that she thought we had named him Nobody. All she ever heard from our back door was one of us shouting "No Buddy". The doggo was forever up to no good. Freed from the confines of the city, this dog found real happiness.
Buddy took to Alabama like a drunk to a bar. He quickly came to enjoy open spaces and the freedom to explore. He was able to run through the woods instead of walking on city sidewalks. He was euphoric with his new life. Kath was always home with him and he was smothered with attention, especially when Kris finally made her way down from Toronto, in time for school. When she moved in to our second bedroom, so did he. Buds together again.
Our first few years were on the chaotic side. I was coincidently struggling with melanoma and learning about my new business. Add to that the arrival of Stephanie, who transferred from McGill University in Montreal, to the M.B.A. program at Alabama, and we had ourselves a busy group. We completed the construction of our new house and bade farewell to our dear little villa. With only two bedrooms, the villa had made sardines of us. Four adults and a massive dog constantly seeking space.
A cute story:
As a foreign student, Stephanie had to pass an English competency test. I suppose it was instituted due to the Japanese and German families who had settled, employed by JVC and Mercedes, who had facilities in town. Steph completed the test quickly and was told she had gone from ESL to honors English inside an hour. The rule was changed soon after, to accommodate Canadian transfers.
Other than to Bob Keith, I never disclosed the fact that I had begun a chemotherapy treatment, under the guidance of UAB, Birmingham. They were a good lot at that hospital. Very caring and considerate. The treatment was, however, brutal. While I had been previously getting by with my cancer, I was horrifically tortured by its cure. The treatments flattened me. I lost all energy, was constantly sick to my stomach and had disgusting bouts of diarrhea.
Work was testing. I did not want the staff to be concerned, so I carried out my responsibilities with discretion. I had arranged for our entire sales staff to be technologically trained on new computers. All of their work had previously been done manually. Tedious and time consuming for them, and complicated for us to manage information. While they were in training, I snuck out, went to the hospital, and received my infusion. I returned in time to take them to dinner and discuss their progress. I never, until now, informed any of them.
The treatments continued for two years. And then we were told that my lungs were worsening. The mass on the lower left lobe had grown. They estimated that my life expectancy would be less than a year. That time frame was the same as I had been given two years prior, when I had begun chemotherapy. I had two more years under my belt already, so one or two more, seemed like a bright future to me.
We were settled in our new house on Bimini Place. We had great neighbors and shared many meals and good times together. Of the four houses on the cul-de-sac, two were occupied by Canadians. The newly-appointed president of Mercedes and his bride, and us. In between were a couple from Virginia, who could not believe their good fortune. (I just made that up.) Actually, they thought it was unbelievable that this could possibly happen in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The fact that two Canadians lived in the same area, was a little surprising. Not many of us could find our way so far south. And stay.
One day, a couple in an old truck drove by, slowed down, and when they drew near our house, they left a gift. What a lovely gesture. It was two tiny, furry puppies. Flung from their truck onto our lawn. The benefactors were gone. High tailing it home, I guess. A mobile adoption center for pets. What a unique idea.
Steph and her mom took the puppies into the garage, made a place for them and gave them food. I was out of town on business when Kath told me the story. I told her that we did not need another dog, and it would be appreciated if she would make sure the pups found a new home. She assured me that the girls were already working on it and a couple of their friends were coming to have a look later that day. When I arrived home two days later, one pup was gone, and the other had taken root. I was told that no one would take him. We had to keep him.
Later, much later, I was informed that the ladies had never had any intention of giving up that dog. We welcomed Toby to our family. Buddy, however, was not as enthralled. Toby quickly learned to respect his elder and became his subservient follower.
Memorial Day, 2020
We watched tricked out golf yesterday. But it was at least something. Sports of late have included South Korean baseball, Championship stone skipping and Championship corn hole. Mesmerizing. Oh yes, spelling bees from years past. HBO, Netflix and Prime have rolled out all the movies and series previously unfit for human consumption. And some are starting to look good. Egads.
We are both healthy and in good spirits. Kath's cough is abating and my arm is finally showing some ever so slight sign of healing. We played golf on the weekend, and our life, in general, is good.
We were watching the Today show and I started berating the anchors, who, when introducing a reporter, always say good morning to you (add name). The reporter replies, "and good morning to you." Why doesn't someone acknowledge the viewer? "Good morning everyone" would be a more inclusive response. Kath mentioned that my rants have been on the decline, these days. I must be losing my edge. I plan to gird my loins and do battle with my enemies in the media, a lot more in the coming days. Lately, my loins have been left ungirded as I have been practicing social distancing from my pants. However, I don't see that changing in the near future.
On a more serious note, I have been thinking of a number of you, my friends. Some are struggling in their lives, and I know you need consolation. I saw, or read something the other day, about faith and loyalty. A reminder that we enjoy a million good moments in our life. Let that not be undone by one, single misstep. Forgiveness is a necessity in life. Use it often.
Our thoughts and prayers are with those who fought for our freedom. And for the families they left behind. I am grateful for their strength and commitment. Thank you from the depths of my heart.
I wish to thank my Child Bride for her participation in last week's story. She had a most difficult time typing through her tears. The trauma still bubbles near the surface. She is a keeper.
Love from the south. We continue to be, as our friend Sandy prescribes, aging in place.
As always, your comments are most welcome. My mind and my heart are made better, when I hear from you. Thank you for caring.
jrobinmullen@gmail.com
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