Bark At You Later

Every morning before work I take the dog for a walk around the neighborhood. At the very least we go around the block. Most days we make a loop around the grounds of the church we attend about a block away. He hunts for critters and "marks" his usual spots. He drags me around to the point that I could practically live at the chiropractor's office. But what he really lives for is for barking at Jake.

Jake is a 15 year old yellow lab (that's 105 to you and me) that lives in a 20'x20' chain link fenced area in his owner's backyard. The yard backs up to one of the roads Lance and I walk down every morning. During the winter, his owners keep him in their garage. He starts staying out in the yard over night once the weather gets nice. Being an old dog, Jake doesn't move around much. When he does, its much like Tim Conway's Old Man character from the Carol Burnett Show. Unless he sees or hears Lance. Then he forgets any aches and pains he might have and starts lunging and barking in our general direction. Lance returns the action with a fierce bark and a quick pull on his lead that almost says "let me at 'im". After 3-5 good deep barks, Jake starts hacking up a lung and quietly strolls back to his shelter and Lance returns to his standard sniffing and peeing. This happens on every walk - almost like clockwork. The only thing that varies is who initiates the jawing. Sometimes Jake is walking in his yard and spots Lance first, but most of the time its Lance that starts stalking him about 30-40 yards away. His ears perk up and he starts getting a prance to his stride. When he hits the road, he starts jumping and barking, trying to catch Jake off guard. Secretly, I think he's trying to give him a heart attack. I'd feel awful if that happened, so I'm going to pretend I didn't say that. Anyway, today was different.

Lance and I started down the sidewalk like any other day. He saw his foe and began his stalking moves. Ears up. High stepping all the way. Jake had his back to us walking his yard. Perfect! Lance begins to pick up his steps. I prepare for my arm to be pulled out of its socket. And then it happens. Something I don't remember ever seeing, but I'm sure it happens every day. Jake squats to take a dump. And Lance pauses. Out of respect or out of awe (it was a BIG pile!), I couldn't say. But he stopped dead in his tracks and just waited. And waited. And waited. It seemed like an eternity, but I'm sure it was only 5-10 seconds. However long it was, it was too long for Lance. He just turned and headed the other way. Jake never saw us. Maybe he pushed so hard he blinded himself. Whatever it was, there was no barking today.

But at least Jake will live to bark another day.

Mom Memories

As I sit here on the eve of Mother's Day, I thought I'd share some memories about my mom.

• As a little shaver on a snowy day, Mom would pull me around our block on my sled.
• On rainy summer days with big mud puddles and rain-filled ditches, she'd let me ride and play outside without getting too mad.
• In 2nd or 3rd grade, our school (K-12 in one building) celebrated homecoming with a box decorating contest. The boxes looked like miniature parade floats and symbolized our victory over the hated Ironmen. I, like many kids, told Mom about the contest way later than I should have. But that didn't faze her. Drawing from life experience, she came up with an idea of hanging the Ironmen "out to dry" and helped me build a clothesline on a football field with the team's name hanging on it. Aw, who am I kidding, she did 95% of it. And it came in 2nd place.
• Mom, instead of Dad, taught me to mow. She later helped me get mowing jobs around town and would usually help me by trimming around trees and landscaping.
• During the summer months, Mom (and my sister - 22 years my senior) took me and my cousins to see about every Disney film. "The World's Greatest Athlete" and "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" stick out as favorites.
• Mom made the best beef noodles in the world. Thankfully, Prudence studied her "pinch of this" and "dab of that" method of cooking it to the point that her's taste just like Mom's. Can't thank her enough. Panda's learning to make it now.
• In the 2nd grade I was diagnosed with a lazy eye. The doctor gave Mom a set of eye exercises to work thru with me. He didn't think she'd stick with it, but 6 months later I was glasses-free. And I remained so until my freshman year of college.
• Every morning thru high school, mom would wake me up at 7:10 and tell me it was 7:15, knowing that I wouldn't get up until the second call. Then as I made my way to the breakfast table with my eyes shut like a mole, she'd greet me with "Good morning, Sunshine!"
• When she made my lunch for school, she always made a ham sandwich (cut in half - rectangularly), a bag of chips, and a Ding Dong.
• During the first semester of my sophomore year at college, I found it easier to goof around with friends than do my schoolwork. After a month into the semester, I felt like there was no way I could catch up and considered dropping out. Mom (and Dad) drove to Champaign, took me out for Godfather's Pizza, talked me down from the ledge lovingly, and helped me get focused to catch up.
• The year that we considered Mom might be in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's was the year that Prudence and I were expecting our first child. To announce the blessed event-to-be, we took advantage of a visit from her parents to have all the future grandparents over for supper. We made place cards for the dining room table with titles like "Grandma W" or "Oma P". Because we often joked that our dog was our kid, almost everyone thought we were making references to him. But Mom, the one that was the most confused of all of us, was clear for that meal and realized immediately what the place cards meant and ran to give Prudence and I a hug. A moment I'll never forget.
• Most of the memories beyond that point aren't as pleasant, but I do remember the last smile she gave me on a visit to her in the nursing home. It was about 2 years before she died.

I love you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.