I have been silent here longer than I like. But I’m tired of being Bad News Sue. In brief, I’m sick with whatever it is that everybody else has around here. I assume I’ll feel better after a few more days of misery.
Meanwhile, my husband, who has Alzheimer’s and lives in a nursing home, has been having a hard time, with three trips to the hospital this month. Most of his problems center on an enlarged prostate, a damaged bladder, and what may become a permanent catheter to drain urine. His condition has declined dramatically, and the phone keeps ringing with trouble. So, phooey.
Annie, the dog who thinks she’s a person, is still doing well. When she gets bored, which is often, she plays a game in which she grabs paper off the table or out of my recycle box and makes me chase her for it. I hear her whooshing past my office, then I hear paper rattling, and I know the game is on. The following poem was inspired by this game.
That’s Why I’m Overdrawn
The dog ate my receipt.
I don’t know how much it was.
I saw it dangling from her lips.
I chased round and round a bit,
slipped and banged my knee.
“Give it back!” I cried.
But she just stared at me,
masticating it
like a cow with her cud,
staring at me, as if to say,
“You don’t share your food with me,
so I’ll eat the names and prices.”
And then she swallowed. Gulp.
Unleashed in Oregon 