Never Too Old

The number left on my “missed call” message was unknown, but something in me said “go ahead and find out who it was”.  I had just that morning, re-recorded my voice mail to say:  “sorry, this gal is retired, you may leave voice mail or call back and text for quicker response, blah, blah.”

You see, I really mean it this time.  I’m quittin this gig. The recent loss of a client was the last straw. No more. I’ve had too much sorrow and the last thing I want is to stay with another client until that final last kiss on the nose sends me into hysterics.

With that new found philosophy taking root in my mental file cabinet, I dialed the number.  “Hello, this is Gert (names changed to protect the well- meaning) at Alaqua Animal Refuge.  You are listed as a reference on an application for Mr. and Mrs……my heart sank.  I couldn’t believe they were at it again.

My octogenarians, two of my favorite senior citizens were trying to fill the void of their own recent loss.  Their Ms. Gigi died in 2011 and I had the privilege of caring for her during those days when “Papa Bear” and “Ms. Gloria” were tasked out of town, or had doctors’ appointments, or most likely on the bus to Biloxi for a little casino action.

We had just been through a near adoption of a lovely Toy Poodle girl (whom they named GiGI II). After 4 months, they gave her back to the breeder, with the excuse that the puppy was too much for them.  I was really angry with them over this and I’m sure that Gigi II wondered what SHE had done.

Oh, the conversations in my head while listening to the questions from this adoption counselor prevented me from answering truthfully.  I  heard myself saying things like: “yes, they are very caring people and the SENIOR companion will have a lovely home with fenced yard, daily walks, scheduled vet appointments…..”

What was I saying? I know, I was trying to be positive. I was trying to be helpful and if answering in the affirmative would help one animal leave the shelter, then I had to say “absolutely yes”.   

Now I just wonder if a dog is placed with them, how soon my phone would ring. This time Ms. Gloria would be on the other end asking me to come meet the new guy. I know I would and this is the reason why: My Grandmother.

Let’s see, must have been in my teenage years that my mother, decided HER mother needed a companion of the four legged kind.  We already were to capacity at our house when Mom learned from a friend that a sweet (they always begin with “sweet”) miniature dog, who was living in neglect, needed a forever home.  My grandmother (already in her late 70’s), lived alone right next door in her own 3 bedroom w/basement home and had NEVER owned a pet. I guess it was her Methodist upbringing…she couldn’t go dancing or play cards either.  

“Missy” came to live with Grandma.  That lady who had been single nearly forty years and kept a spotless home and came and went when the spirit moved her became the owner of a blonde Toy Poodle. Not a puppy, but middle age with signs of neglect and soft brown eyes.

“Bammy” (my nickname for Grandmother), was resistant at first, but my mother rather insisted and so the newest member of our family was welcomed by all. 

That first snow storm had my Grandma shoveling a path for “going outside” in the cavernous fenced back yard.  I spied her from my bedroom window in her nighty under coat, booties over slippers and watched her clear a 10 by 10 spot at the edge of the patio for Missy.

I watched the transformation from someone who was not good with dogs or comfortable with them near her, to someone whose entire world centered around a 6 pound best friend, secret keeper, and lap companion during the evening’s newspaper reading time.

If the temperature fell, Missy would be found sandwiched under Gran’s apron (to keep the newsprint from her dress) and the electric heating pad on her lap.  Miniature marsh mellows, dried and kept in a gold and burgundy tin canister were the approved treats; one for Grandma and two for Missy.

I don’t remember any bag, can or box of dog food in the pantry, so I’m guessing they enjoyed the same cuisine. I do recall Grandma telling me that their evening dessert was a dish of vanilla ice cream. Her water dish was kept in the back hall bathroom.  It was a favorite room of mine; tile, sink, toilet and counter top were a mint green.  There was a plaque hung on the door which read “Missy’s room”. 

Dog beds were in every room, purposefully placed where the sun’s rays would find her.

Grandma was a changed woman. Her outlook brightened. She gained friends, who upon being invited for supper, would ask about the little dog. She was less fearful in coming up the hill to our house and had a new self -confidence when confronted by our much larger family pets.

I believe that Bammy was the eldest pet owner to frequent our family’s vet clinic. She wanted to learn as much as possible and would have samples and brochures in her purse after every appointment. 

And in that last day, she laid Missy to rest under a bed of pink petunias in the sunniest spot of the north border of the patio.

My Bammy is long gone and her house is under new ownership.  I had the occasion to re visit the house and the woman invited me in and she asked me about my grandmother. She felt a benevolent spirit present and was aware of aromas of freshly baked bread and ladies cologne.

I smiled and said “yes, that would be her”.  She took me to the patio and said, “See that pink rose on the north side? It comes up each summer around mid-June. I didn’t plant it” I replied “Her birthday was June 13^th”.  I felt a tear welling in my eye, but chose not to share my secret.

Those years Grandmother shared her home with Missy gave me a new appreciation and acceptance of the eventuality of old age. My friends, Papa Bear and Ms. Gloria, are looking forward to welcoming home their chosen companion. I am expecting their call.