Disclaimer: This post is not intended to insult or make fun of anyone, nor is it meant to discuss anyone's personal feelings. It’s simply a recollection of my day. Full disclosure: I’m not a writer. This composition is about on a 2nd-grade English level, so don’t judge me too harshly.
I had to take my dog, Bentley, to the vet to have his blood checked today. He has a heart murmur, and it’s progressed to a nasty point. He’s been having seizures and fainting spells. The results from his echocardiogram weren't what I had hoped for, but here we are—four pills, two times a day. The good news? He’s improved enough that he’s not coughing anymore, he’s gained weight, and he’s got a pep in his step that I haven’t seen in a while. I’ll take another day with him, no matter the cost.
When he would have seizures, he’d look at me with those big brown eyes, as if asking, "What’s happening to me?" I could feel his fear. I was sad for him, and scared too.
We sat quietly in the waiting room, me holding Bentley in my arms. I asked him what he wanted to do when we got home. His tail started wagging, and his little body got warm and snuggly. I could sit there holding him all day. Bentley’s a lap dog, so that's kind of his thing.
I chatted with a few folks in the waiting room. They looked at Bentley and smiled. He hasn’t been to the groomer for weeks because they didn’t want to stress him out, so he looks like a fluffy, dirty mess. I’m sure they were thinking, What happened to this poor dog? A few big dogs came in, and Bentley had to show off by growling at them. Okay, buddy, I get it—you’re a tough guy.
Then a young girl walked in. I noticed her right away from across the parking lot. She was wearing a pink, lacy sweater with a Peter Pan collar, a black skirt, and knee-high boots. She had a little black cat with her. I told her I loved her outfit—it was romantic with a touch of goth—and I even complimented the pink satin bow in her hair. (I’ll get to bows later.) I said my outfit was “granny glam from Goodwill.” Everyone started laughing. Honestly, I looked like a mess—snow boots, capris, two sweaters, and I don’t even think I combed my hair. But hey, I like it that way.
Outside, I saw a lady pull up, and she got out of her car and went to the back seat. She was out there for a while, and at first, I thought she was having trouble getting her pet out. I know my own dog sometimes needs a little coaxing. She closed the door, came inside, and spoke to someone, then went back outside to open the back seat again, trying to get her dog out. That’s when I saw her wipe her eyes, and I knew this wasn’t good. She came back in, and a tech brought out a gurney to take her dog, covered in a bedsheet. My heart sank.
I told Bentley, “We need to pray for them,” and I did, right there in the middle of the vet’s office. I didn’t care who heard me. When the lady came back in, I stood up, put my hand on her shoulder, and told her she needed a hug. So, there I was—standing in the middle of the lobby, hugging a stranger and letting her cry on me. I could feel her pain, the gut-wrenching agony of losing a beloved pet. I felt the wetness through my sweater but didn’t care. We just hugged. When she pulled back, I grabbed her shoulders and told her how sorry I was.
The tech came and told me that Bentley’s test results were great, and we didn’t have to come back for six months. A huge sigh of relief. I asked Bentley if he wanted a pup cup, and he ran toward the car, peeing on every tire along the way. I’ll take that as a yes.
I dropped Bentley off at home and went back to Dickson to get some groceries. Sarah had asked me to pick up a Barney basket from Wal-Mart for Jack. I dreaded hearing the word “Wal-Mart,” but the dutiful Grammie in me went. I knew it would be packed—it was lunchtime and Valentine’s Day, but miraculously, I found a decent parking spot.
When I walked in, I immediately wanted to leave. The Valentine’s section was packed, and the shelves were nearly empty. I was sure they wouldn’t have the Barney basket, but I made my way through the crowd—mostly men, procrastinating last-minute shoppers. The aisles were cluttered, and people were parked in the middle, blocking traffic. I was getting a headache.
Finally, I found the last few Barney baskets, so I felt lucky. I grabbed some cat food, then decided to pick up a few groceries while I was there. I walked past the book section and skimmed the titles, reminding myself that I already have six unread books stacked up at home. I used to visit the library all the time with the kids, but now, with Kindle, I don’t feel the need. Still, maybe I’ll take Jack to the new library sometime.
The aisles were a nightmare. Carts everywhere—people everywhere. My head was pounding. I was mentally heckling everyone around me: "One of you better move or it's going to be a pile-up,” “Watch your kid, mister,” “Lady, get out of my way!" My sarcastic alter ego was in full force. Normally, I enjoy people-watching, but not today. I was on a mission—to get in, get what I needed, and get out. The day was slipping away.
I finally made it to the checkout and realized I forgot WD-40. So, I backtracked, grabbed a rug for the front porch and a book... $185 later, I made it to the car.
As I was loading up, a gentleman approached me. “Well, it’s a day,” he said. I replied, “It’s sunny and not raining, so it’s a good day.” He agreed and mentioned that he had a car like mine. I went to get in my car, but he said, “But mine didn’t have a sunroof.” Oh no, I was getting into the wrong car. I told him, “Mine doesn’t have a sunroof either,” and we had a laugh.
He told me he was 92. I thought he looked about 73. He had a sparkle in his eye and a pep in his step, but his eyes also looked lonely. I could feel it. The eyes really are the window to the soul. I asked if he needed help with his groceries. He declined, but thanked me. I told him to enjoy the sunshine and have a blessed day.
As I drove home, I saw a man with a dog sitting on the sidewalk. I started to pull over but kept going. I was headed to Goodwill, after all. But something kept nagging at me. Maybe it was my sensitivity after the vet visit, but I turned around, grabbed some treats from the car, and gave him $30. I told him to take care of himself and his dog, Rosie. I didn’t hover or pry, just handed him the money and the treats, wished him well, and said a prayer for him.
The rest of the day was simple. Jack and his dad went to the pond to look for Fred the turtle and blow bubbles. Jack was done with the goats and wanted to go home. I sat by the fire, typing this, reflecting on how blessed I am.
Even though the world can be tough sometimes, I pray for the lady who lost her dog, the young girl with the romantic style, the man on the corner with Rosie, and everyone in my life. I pray they all find peace and warmth tonight. And I pray Bentley and I have many more good days together.
The next day: It’s raining again, my yard is flooded a bit, but at least the pond is full. The spring flowers will be happy. I’m looking forward to a lazy day—maybe I’ll finally crack open that book.
\
No comments:
Post a Comment