This morning, my mother asked me, "So, when do you leave to pick up Wicker?" My mother has trouble with names. To date, she has called Watson: Wicker, Wicket, Winston, and Datsun. It took mom nearly a year to remember Fig's name; she called him "Sig."She may not remember names, but she remembered what it's like to have a new puppy. I'd forgotten that she remembered.
My doorbell rang late this afternoon. My mother's gardner/handyman stood at my door. He had been sent by my mother to "inspect" my backyard. Mom was worried that it might not be puppy-proof, and she sent help. Together, Jose and I found a small hole in the fence line (thank you, Fig) that a puppy could wedge his head, and under the deck, we found most of Fig's discarded, disgusting, de-stuffed puppy toys.
I now have the most puppy-friendly backyard in Napa.
Thank you, mom.
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Aw, that's so sweet of your mom.
ReplyDeleteAww! A wonderful Gramma! :)
ReplyDeleteToo funny -- but really thoughtful. We don't want to lose little Wicket or Datsun or whatever you call him.
ReplyDeleteAlden,
ReplyDeleteI think that one truly has to meet your mom to have this fully in context! I am just imagining her conversation with the handyman! LOL
Can't wait to see little DatWicketSun....? :-)
Your mom can always send the gardner to Captain's house. His backyard outside the dog run needs attention which his Dad neglects.Love your folks though.
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