Our twelve year old golden retriever, Cyndie, has been having some serious health issues. She was at the vet for three days last week being treated for pancreatitis and kidney problems. She’s home now, and though not quite as spunky as usual, she seems to be enjoying life and all of the attention she’s been getting.

She’s on a special diet.

Yesterday, I made scrambled eggs with little pieces of chicken I had boiled, and sweet potatoes for her breakfast, lean ground turkey with rice, peas, and carrots for lunch, and for dinner, she got round steak that I had been slow cooking in the crock pot all day with some low sodium beef broth and rice as a side dish. Kip caught me eating a chunk of the roast. I told him I just couldn’t stand it any longer. (We had microwaved pizza.)

I haven’t cooked so much since 2010. I fear our two cocker spaniels are plotting to leave home. They have drooled so much, we now have them stand on a towel while their sister eats like a queen. (It’s okay, I stand with them unless it’s my turn to hand feed Cyndie.)

We went back to the vet yesterday to get some canned dog food a friend reccomended. It’s specially made for dogs with Cyndie’s problems. We were told they would give us a couple of cans, but when she was there, she wouldn’t eat it. “Did you try throwing it on the BBQ grill for a couple of minutes first?” I asked.

My refrigerator is full of Cyndie leftovers packed in little plastic containers. We bought ten in different sizes and labeled them with what they contain, the date, and how long they should be warmed in the microwave, only to discover that Cyndie doesn’t really like leftovers.

Oh well…you do what it takes, right? I have started to feel guilty about making my youngest child survive on Kraft mac and cheese his last year at home. We did take him out to eat occasionally, but how do you take your dog to a drive-up and order low sodium pizza, hold the spices and cheese?

I have to run to the store for eggs, now. I hear Cyndie stirring and she’s going to want breakfast.

It’s five o’clock in the morning and this is the fourth of July.

After 243 years of freedom, our flag now struggles to fly.

Celebrations are now controversial. Our independence causes some to feel shame.

The men and women who have fought for our freedoms, are now part of a juvenile game.

I think of those soldiers who waited to see the dawn’s early light. Would our flag still be standing? Had it survived through that terrible night?

They were proud to fight for our freedoms. Some walked bootless through the cold snow. Now we fight over Nikes. I’m so grateful they didn’t know.

Respect was not guaranteed. Their honor is often denied. Why must we go through this nonsense? Why is it wrong to feel pride?

I don’t care if you are left or right. Fly that star spangled banner high. Celebrate that we’re all still free and then, ask yourself why.

photos are from my dad’s Army album.

Murdo

By Mary Francis McNinch

I’ve been sitting here for five long minutes, wondering how I should begin this.

Now I’ve written four short lines and nothing that I’ve written rhymes.

I guess it’s close enough for me. Until I have an epiphany.

I’ve got my crown on. I’m good to go. I know the words will begin to flow.

Why oh why is my brain so slow. Nothing much rhymes with Murdo.

I think I’ve thought of a better way. I’ll start by describing Mack’s Cafe.

Breakfast, dinner, supper, snacks…The food was always good at Mack’s.

Doris made yummy cinnamon rolls..served ham and beans in great big bowls.

Hot beef sandwiches were a favorite. Don’t eat too fast, you must savor it.

I ate so much my stomach hurt, but I always had room for a big dessert.

Sanderson’s Store is on Main Street, and everyone there is really neat.

If you’ve read all I’ve written about. You know this store inside and out.

Groceries, produce, they’ve got it all, and mounted deer heads on the wall.

Grandpa Sanderson after a successful hunt

Uncle Jeff, Uncle Al and Great Aunt Tet..Just a second I’m not done yet.

Billy, Jeff H. and Eldon Davis, thanks for the service you all gave us.

The post office, Ford garage, Mr. Kell…Laundromat, Gambles, and the Gem Hotel.

The Murdo Coyote keeps us in the know, even 25 and 50 years ago.

Maybe they know what rhymes with Murdo.

If the Ford Garage sells you a car, and you celebrate at the Buffalo Bar,

The Hotel owned by Alice Tornow is the place you probably ought to go.

Still nothing rhymes with Murdo.

My dog Berferd got to go, uptown to the picture show.

He was as quiet as he could be, (unless a dog barked in the movie).

If you want to change the way you’re livin, or maybe you need to be forgiven,

We’ve got churches everywhere, so you can go and say a prayer.

Go to Dr Murphy if you’re feeling sick and Doc Bork will fix your teeth real quick.

Joy Payne sells the ladies their dresses and Evie McKenzie curls their tresses.

Down on the highway called Old 16, there’s a lot more to be seen.

Fern’s Cafe makes a great hamburger, or maybe dessert is what you’re there fer.

Chocolate cake with lots of frosting. (Writing a poem is so exhausting)

Head to The Pioneer Auto Museum. Old cars and buildings..Wait til you see em.

Together our motels sleep 800. (Just in case you’ve ever wondered).

Super Value and Cafe 16, have goods and food fit for a Queen.

If you’re low on gas, don’t get nervous. All our gas stations are full service.

Dean’s Philip 66 will fix your tires, and Dean’s really good to the guys he hires.

Now we have a drive-in and a diner. Their food and milkshakes taste diviner.

Than food you usually get “to go”.Still nothing rhymes with Murdo.

I wouldn’t be in such a frenzy if they would’ve named Murdo..MacKenzie.

***********************************

My cousin Valerie Leckey with two friends shortly before she and her parents moved to California. I’m sure many of you recognize the other two cute girls. The photo was taken in 1963.

W Spade came to town hoping to spend some quality time with his daughter, MG and niece, Lav. A strange turn of events got them all involved in the Click Case.

We knew from the beginning that W Spade wasn’t MG’s Dad and Lav’s Uncle Bill’s real name. At first, he was just going to teach MG to drive the El Camino, but thought better if it. He quickly realized MG and Lav weren’t the sharpest knives in the drawer when they were confused by the phone calls telling them what they already knew. W Spade was really MG’s dad and Lav’s Uncle Bill. He just happened to have gum on his shoes.

Along came the three Click brothers and their sister, Friday. They were part of one of the bad Clicks that every town has. They were really struggling financially due to the seaweed problem in their swimming dam, the loss of an oar, and the increasing cost of Friday’s hats. They saw the shiny El Camino and extortion came to mind.

The police came up with the idea to preemptively get MG’s dad to call Jim and ask him for $500.00 to free Friday which confused Jim Click. He became stressed because now he needed $1000 smackaroos which caused him to die from a natural cause of some kind. (Most Clicks lead an unhealthy lifestyle.)

The bad Clicks left town, but Friday redeemed herself by heading up a community effort to build a public swimming pool. The town buried the basement, though if you drive by slowly, you can still pick up the scent of a stale cigar. MG and Lav were very grateful the washer and dryer were buried with the basement.

Mystery solved…oh, Dad, (aka Uncle Bill) and Berferd were last seen headed west in the El Camino. They got word that MG and Lav wanted to ride in some parade seated on the back of a red convertible and wanted no part of that. They did, however miss the rhunarb shakes they had grown so fond of.

Now…can I write an exciting yet intriguing mystery or what?

Don’t get too discouraged. My clues will save the day. The answer to this puzzle is just one click away.

Tim Click was in a boat trying to get to shore. He went around in circles cause he only had one oar.

Slim Click was on the dock. He fell off and hit his head, got tangled in the seaweed and later turned up dead.

Jim Click tried to help them but he couldn’t swim. He couldn’t find Tim’s oar or save his brother Slim.

The Clicks lived near the swimming dam that sister Friday called the pond. Jim went home to get her, but she was already gone.

The phone rang and Jim answered. The caller said, “I’m W Spade. I have your sister, Friday, and there’s a deal here to be made.) He said, “I need some money. $500 smackaroos will do. Bring it to the basement and I’ll give Friday back to you.”

Jim thought about it some and called the cops instead. When they got to the house. They found that Jim was dead. To add a twist to the story and give reason here to pause, Jim wasn’t killed by anyone. He died of a natural cause.

So far, no one’s been murdered, but Jim and Slim are toast. Tim Click rows in circles. Friday Click’s tied to a post.

What does W Spade et al have to do with all of this? Who called and told three people his name was never his?

Answer those two questions and this mystery will be solved. There was a crime commited, but no murder was involved.

W Spade et al, were really in a mess. Two guys were found demised, but no one had confessed.

A boat had been afloat at the local swimming dam. The bad guy took the paddles and whacked the good guys… bam!!

The police had one body, W Spade took the other. Who were these gentlemen? Did they know one another?

Our girl Friday acted strangely. She said she lived across the pond. Did she mean the ocean or was W being conned?

W Spade et al investigated. They knew they must be quick. They looked inside Friday’s purse and found her name is Click.

Since W had no ice, to keep his demised guy cold. He put him in the pop machine and the cokes could not be sold.

The two good guys and the bad one and Friday were all Clicks. A family from Ft Pierre. Way out in the sticks.

I’ve told you all I’m going to…just for today. Can you solve my little mystery, or will the bad guy get away?

MG after consuming a delicious rhubarb shake at this diner.

After being notified by the local police that a body had been found at the swimming dam, W Spade et al, jumped into the El Camino and headed East. We catch up with them heading back.

Lav: How come I always have to ride in the middle? We need a four-door car.

MG: Would you rather ride in the back with the dead guy?

Lav: Hey Uncle W, how did you know there were two dead guys at the swimming dam? The police said there was only one who met his surprise.

W: They said demise, but I guess he probably was surprised when he got snuffed out by a boat paddle. That was the guy the police found. I haven’t figured out who turned this guy’s lights out yet…or how!

MG: There’s something fishy about this whole thing. You’re not even supposed to have a boat on this dam. It’s for swimming. Why would someone bring a boat out here and whack a guy with an oar?

W: You’re pretty sharp, MG, like your dad. You’re right…something is fishy. Plus the guy in back smells like seaweed. I wonder if he was fishing off the dock before the killer killed him?

MG: My question is why do we have him in our car? Why didn’t we just hand his body over to the cops. They already have the other one. I mean, if you already have one dead guy, what’s one more?

W: There is something I need to tell you et al…I knew both of the dead guys when they were still alive. In fact, I could be courting danger myself. I think I’ll pull my new cigar out and chew on it for a while. I’m feeling kind of jittery.

Lav: Hey Uncle W. where’d you get that new cigar? You said you only had one and you hadn’t lit it for ten years. It smelled like it, too.

W: Well, aren’t you a couple of smart cookies. I’m beginning to think you know too much. Maybe I should have Friday shut you in the laundry room while I get myself out of some hot water.

Lav and MG: Please no! Not the laundry room. Are the motel towels in there? Would we have to wash and fold all those towels? We can’t even put bleach in the water. If the towels look too nice, the tourists steal them. (MG’s parents own a motel and she and all her cousins have worked there at some point for $1 an hour plus a cinnamon roll.)

W: Well, okay. I’m going to stop by there, anyway. We need to put this guy on ice until I can figure out what to do. Is that ice machine still in the basement? If not, we’ll have to squeeze him into the pop machine.

So W Spade et al go back to the basement where they catch Friday napping. She wakes up when she hears them come in.

Friday: I’m still on across the pond time, she lies. You’ve had two phone calls, Mr. Spade. Both callers said I don’t think you know who you really are. They sounded sinister and smelled like seaweed.

Anybody pick up on that? Last I knew, you couldn’t smell someone over the phone. What is Friday’s deal? And why do all these clicks keep calling to tell us W is someone else?

Wow…this is deep…

People may not remember exactly what you did, or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.

…Maya Angelou

I want to share this news with all of my wonderful friends and family who have been my loyal support system these past few months.

Yesterday, the doctor said he wants me to heal until the end of the summer before any further surgery. At that time, they will re-cision (take a very small section of what’s left on the left, to biopsy). If it shows zero cancer cells, which they believe will be the case, they will do a little reconstruction surgery and I’ll be done. I have started the pill form of cancer medication and there are no plans for chemo or radiation, just a ton of check-ups.

I don’t have the words to express how grateful I am. I’ve seen so much suffering, but I’ve seen some awesome miracles, too.

Here is what I’ve learned…The prayers make the difference in both cases.

But…Dollie is depressed. When are they coming?

I have to say thank you for the milkshakes, cards, yummy meals, fun little gifts, wonderful visits, flowers, emails, phone calls, and the help of my family and amazing church family. Kip even colored my roots. What a guy!

I love and appreciate you all more than you could ever know, and you are always in my prayers.

Love,

Mary