Go Night Night
Our dog, Lucky, died on a Thursday.
I decided I could be sad for years,
for months, for a week, or for hours.
So what would alleviate this utter despair
and sadness?
A new dog, of course.
I searched the internet, and discovered
Sophie. Coaxed Joe into meeting the
people at a public place for me.
"She has papers," they told me on the phone.
"She is a purebred cocker."
Sophie is the only dog I have ever met
who was afraid of me.
Afraid of us..
She was a black cocker who looked
like she was starving, and was shaking profusely.
I did not want her around the grandchildren,
but Joe said, "We'll take her," and began handing
over $120 in $20's. That was the price for a pureblood.
I held her on my lap, and we were off.
Sophie reminded Joe of Blondie, a little cocker spaniel
who had been mistreated when he was a little boy.
A cocker spaniel his parents had rescued, to pamper and love.
Sophie has now become Sophie Helen, after Joe's Mom.
She adores me, cannot get enough of me, wants her
butt next to my lower back at all times, especially if
I say, "Night night, Sophie."
Joe held the phone to her ear this week when I
was in the hospital for ulcers and an inflamed colon.
"Go night night," I told Sophie across the phone wires.
Joe said she slept on the top of the couch, looking forlorn,
staring out the window, waiting for her Mommy.
Best $120 we ever spent.
By the way, her papers said
she had shots in January.
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