Those 70ish Girls

Cuz Lav wrote a great and very true story…Happy Labor Day!!!

Going to the dogs…if they let me…
I had been on the volunteer job at the dog shelter for a few months, and luckily they didn’t can me after almost losing the first dog I walked, Snowball.  I thought things were going doggone well, when I chose a chunk of a dog to walk one day. I picked out pit bull mix, Katie, she was squat, thick like brick and reminded me of a mini tank. These dogs have gotten a bad rap. I love pit bulls that people haven’t messed up. She had an adorable toothy smile. She took me on a walk of a lifetime. It was like walking a mini granite building with legs. The entire walk, I was praying I could keep up with her. She was strong, weight lifter strong. She loved getting out and about in the beautiful area around the SPCA grounds. I’m not sure who was puffing more, her or me. Her tongue hanging out with a fun waddle of her backside, tail wagging all the way made me happy and her squared off face with beautiful eyes was a delight . It was a solid workout, from which I hoped to recover.  Katie was in charge of me. I even thought I could hear her say, “Heel!” to me. My shoulder and arm had no feeling when we got back to the adoption floor, but the thrill of pretending to walk this great dog made up for it all. It was an honor to be with this marvelous animal. I had survived  Katie taking me out on a walk. I was puffing but happy.  Dogs are better than a lot of humans. They like you for who you are, failures or successful people alike, no matter who you are. It made me feel good. Katie had shown me who was in charge, but she didn’t rub it in.

Another time I volunteered, -(the administration was still letting me come in) – I managed to get into a kennel with a larger dog and my leash.These were separate from the dog condos.  It was always tricky getting the slip leash around a dog’s neck and not allowing them to get out before I was ready. I was trying a new method:  go into the kennel with the dog after reading all the important info posted on the door. Maybe give the dog a few treats, say their name and talk calmly as you assess the situation. I was thinking how good I was at this. Bet they were happy to have me here volunteering, even at my age I was an expert, a real asset to the dog community. Maybe I would get a certificate or special pin or a cupcake treat.

As I got the leash on the large Labrador Husky mix, I reached for the door latch to go out on our walk. The metal latch that drops down was engaged as was this little extra twirly thing that assures no dog can get out. It also made sure I didn’t get out. Doggone it! I saw someone nearby in the official SPCA shirt, and asked to be let out. She looked at me like, “How did you let that happen?” The employee told me how to just reach under the twirly thing on the door latch and then as you push it out you can flip the latch up.  You’re not stuck inside, but you are if you didn’t  listen when the trainers taught you the ropes during the on site tour. I thanked her and went on another dog walk.  The Lab/Husky mix didn’t seem to blame me, he was just glad to get out of there and be on a walk in the open air and sunshine.  That’s another great thing about dogs. They don’t hold grudges nor make you feel dumb.  You can do that yourself.

I enjoyed all my time walking dogs, washing dishes, seeing and greeting customers who are looking for a life long friend, the perfect dog for them. So after a couple years, I asked about the back shelters and getting trained to help in the large buildings there where dogs who are not ready to be adopted or have had surgery are kept.  Was I ready to move up? Could I emotionally handle seeing dogs with problems or health issues? I wasn’t sure. Maybe my cousin was right. The SPCA will eventually charge me to volunteer there!
Hmm. That’s another story.

You set a beautiful example, Valerie Halla. No matter what your challenges are (0:

We just couldn’t include the really sad pictures, but believe me, there are many…Please give what you can to your local SPCA or Humane Society…Or take a special friend home!

Going to the Dogs…BY LAV, Illustrations by MG
After I retired, it seemed like a good idea to give back to my community and to the world.  I had the time now to volunteer helping animals who needed homes. This would be rewarding. I could handle this. It would be fun.

My retired friends volunteered at schools, public libraries and food banks. I love animals so I decided to volunteer at the SPCA. It took me a while to get up the nerve and to find the time. Finally, I went online and applied to our local SPCA, paid the fee for getting fingerprinted and went in for my interview. The young gal who asked me a few questions was easy to talk with and it turned out, she lived 8 miles from where I did. She hired me on the spot and I got the feeling, it was because I was nice and I was a warm body.

So I passed with flying colors but had to take a 4 hour class and be trained on the site. After all that,  I got my official badge, T-shirt and sign in number. I started walking dogs that were up for adoption and helping customers who came to see the dogs, safe dogs who had been screened.

The first dog that I walked, Snowball, was it turned out, much smaller but much smarter than me.  I got the slip collar leash on him and we headed out of the yard through the gate. He stopped as I went forward and he just backed out of that collar like one slick and cool snowball sliding away into the distance, away he ran. “Help, help, I lost my dog!” I yelled, running to get help from the main office.  An employee ran out with me to help (not all workers are volunteers) and she was quite serious and quite professional as she and soon another employee headed Snowball off by the gate, where he obediently stood waiting to get back on the main grounds where the kennels are located.

“Ma’am, we don’t yell ‘Help’. Just say ‘loose dog’ or call this number on your cell,” the kind worker informed me, giving me the number to put into my phone contacts. Snowball was now leashed up again, and heading to his little home kennel, which were called “condos “.  They’re nice clean little rooms with all glass doors and viewing windows on one side for dogs to live in just like at your house until they find their forever home. Snowball had rolled back home and didn’t want to have a thing to do with me. He looked at me. He was wagging his tail as if to say, “So there, you volunteer newby. You couldn’t keep me on a leash. I am too slick! Ha!”

The first dog I walked, and he escaped easily. I felt like a failure. I can’t even walk dogs? But wait… this was volunteer work. This was voluntary. They couldn’t fire me. It wasn’t like I had  to pass an audition or tryouts. And I was a senior. Surely they’ll feel sorry for an oldster who means well. They couldn’t get rid of me so easily.

I hung in there and walked more dogs over the next months, making sure they could not pull out or back out of their slip leash. I washed dog dishes, cat litter boxes, and kongs part of my time there. I got better as I got more experience. I found out though that some dogs are super strong so one big dog I took out once, took ME for the walk. I hung on for dear life. More later…

LAV:  When was the last time you laughed until you cried?
I probably have laughed a lot in my 70ish lifetime. The one time that I recall laughing and laughing and crying  hilariously was recently in South Dakota at the Martin Mason Hotel in Deadwood where my cousin Mary was my roomie in our sweet suite Cousin Blake gave us for three nights.
Mary started an impromptu video idea. She thought it all out, told me what to say and how to set up the short video. “Let’s do it!” she said. She did a pantomime of her Mom, a real character  (my Aunt Loretta) combined with another of our dear Aunt Elna. She played both parts. As I was Filming the video of Mary as Aunt Loretta smoking then hiding her cigarette in her purse, so her Dad – our straight as an arrow Grandpa Sanderson who didn’t know Loretta smoked- wouldn’t see her smoking as he came up the sidewalk, I started giggling. Then I cut over to Mary as Aunt Elna laughing and slapping her leg with Mary overdoing it but using the perfect ad lib for both characters. I lost it. I laughed so much I thought I would pee. Tears came to my eyes. It was so funny yet sentimental and I almost heard Elna’s infectious laugh and saw her face crinkle up. I could see Mary as Loretta puffing away as I panned back to Mary playing Loretta then stuffing the cigarette into her purse as the smoke lightly filtered up into the air and Mary pantomimed that, trying to fan away the smoke with her hand.
Mary played it like a true comical scene. It was genius.
Our friend Cynthia later said she broke up watching it later and that Mary she swears should do stand up.
I agree.

MG: I cried until I laughed

I think this is the best poem I have ever written…NOT

I cried most of the afternoon.

Our time to move is coming soon.

I had to go through every treasure.

Each had given so much pleasure.

Keepers will be unpacked someday.

Not here, but somewhere far away.

From many things I’d have to part.

The thought of it just broke my heart.

I fought the feelings of despair

As memories floated through the air.

Those tangible things my eyes could see.

They truly meant the world to me.

Each came from a loving friend,

Or family,…(Francis or Sanderson)

I cried while I sorted through

And separated old from new.

Should I cull all things big?

What would fit inside our rig?

I packed the things I chose to keep.

The stacks of boxes became deep.

I had no more tears to cry.

I dabbed by eyes and gave a sigh.

And then I laughed…

I hadn’t saved a bit of space.

Boxes took my treasures place.

I had no time to figure out

What things I could live without.

It didn’t matter…there weren’t any.

Kip will just have to get rid of some of his treasures.

HA!!

These are a few of my favorite things…

Investigative journalism aims to uncover the truth about a particular subject, person, or event. While investigative journalism is based on the basic principle underlying all journalism-verification and accurate presentation of facts-investigative reporters must often work with uncooperative or recalcitrant sources who do not wish to divulge information. This is an example of the outstanding in her pasture talents of the renouned and reverbed Baba Wawa.

Exwoosive Interview:

Baba:  Good evening. This is Blabber Walters, Uhhh, I mean I am Baba Wawa speaking to you from Happy Down in the Valley, California. Tonight we will be interviewing a dimpled baby, that is…a 14 month darling toddler who miraculously has the power of speech. I feel privileged and lucky to get the first interview ever with a talking 14 month old. He can say entire sentences not just a word or two. Almost speaks as eloquently as I do. This is very rare in the annals of infant development.   You are about to witness history. I am about to pocket a million $.
This one will go in the record books and into the Guinness Book also. Speaking of Guinness, I could use a stout cold ale about now. But no, darn, sorry…interview comes first.
[Walks over to baby in high chair.]

Baba: Hi, Baby Ev. How is your day going? Super happy to meet you. I am the famous Baba Wawa of national television fame. I will interview you which means I will ask you a lot of infantile questions, um, meaning infant appropriate questions geared just for you. Ready?

Baby Ev:  Wight. I have to get my baff den story time, den off to bed. Weddy, set …go.

Baba: I must say you’re speaking quite clearly for having just been around for a little more than a year. You even know your schedule! Tell me, how do you like living here with your parents?

Baby Ev:  I get stuck a wot. I am stuck wite now in this feeder seat thing. Where’s my snack? Hey! (Yelling.) You pwomised a snack. I know, I know! Use our inside voice.

Baba: So sawwee, I mean sorry!  Do you feel independent now that you have started walking and talking at just 14 months?

Baby Ev: Huh?… ooopps. Here Dey come whiff fud, mmmm. Wooks goooood.

Baba:  That looks delicious. Glad you got your snack. Your parents kind of zip in and out a lot. Do you feel they are supervising you enough? – ~aside- This kid sure gets distracted easily.~

Baby Ev:  (Crunch, slurp, smush- lip smacking sounds)  I wuv dem a wot, however, Dey kinda ignore me cept when they smell my diaper, and den day gets uhcited.
[Picture of Ev after taking care of some business ]

Baba:  I can relate, I mean understand that. On the other hand, were they amazed, as we all were, that you started talking at such an early age?

Baby Ev:  Hey, dis dawg is mine but where did dat kitty come fwom ?

( Parents come back into the room and take Ev out of his high chair. They put him on the floor and he walks around falling here and there.)

Baba: I think that’s MG’s cat! How did it get here? (Rushing to finish interview.)
Ummm. Well!  Looks like we had better wrap it up and let you get ready for beddie by!

Baby Ev:  I needs a dwink. Ohhh, here we go. The dawg left some Wawa here.
[Picture of Ev reaching into dog’s water bowl.]

Baba:  (Looking into camera smiling.). So dear fans and Fwends , I mean FRIENDS,
that ends another future Emmy Winning interview of darling little Ev. I see his parents are gathering him up now to get him ready for story time, bath and bed. Here’s hoping we can interview him again soon. Just not too soon. But that’s another story.  Good night and good luck.
[Picture of Ev with big smile and eyes closed holding a baby bottle.]

OUT TAKES

Lav has written a (tongue in cheek) accounting of the tour group’s final days in Murdo, SD. They were there to attend the all school reunion…Hey, Wait! They were only there for 48 hours. Oh well, to those who hung around with us, I mean them, I’m sure it seemed like much longer.

MHS/JCHS Reunion stuff they didn’t teach you in school

After a stunner of a day with Dianna and Sherri with burgers, rhubarb, chocoholic, butterscotch, you name it shakes, showered with gifts, crowns, and attention, MG was flying high. Then after the check-in at the Range Country, where the group was enlightened by an orientation given by the motel hostess, Get moving! Aye, aye, the group went to their rooms for naps.

After napping there was hair, makeup and dressing up for MG and Lav. They were off to the 1962 class dinner at the gun club, where they were guests of Billy. Lotsa food and small talk. Oh what a day, what a night!

Later that same night…or as some might call it…Part 2

Back room not Restroom (That’s what Lav calls it.)

It was past midnight at the Buffalo. We saw two guys at the end of the room who were just holding their beers-barely. They were looking us up and down. MG turned to the left in front of them at the restrooms.  She couldn’t figure out what the restroom signs meant :  Jackasses on one door, Jenny’s on the other. Which was the girls’ side? I couldn’t help her. I got distracted.
She yelled over to me, “I started to go in the Jackass room because a jackass told me that was where the back room was.” Those darn jackasses. Why don’t they stay on the farm?
Desperately I turned to the beer holders and said, “Where’s the back room?”
“Huh, the restroom?”
“No, the back room!”
“Oh, through there,” beer guy pointed to the right.
“Come on, MG. We gotta find Bill and Gus. It’s way past their bedtime.”

We kept walking way in back, past the bar, past the pool table and past the younger crowd.

There they were. Bill and Gus were having a high old time at the last table.
There should’ve been a sign that read, “70 ish and oldsters only”.
The young-looking-old-guy Ralph was there and a few senior alumni and I don’t mean senior class. Eddie, who is always in Senior Athletic Coyote Mode was talking to Bill.

We got over to their table. The guys looked two sheets to the wind, a strong tumbleweed prairie wind, dry, hot and unforgiving. They had been hit hard by that wind. They were zonked, in a galaxy far, far…you get it. We had to get them back to the motel. There were lots of doings the next day and we needed sleep.

The School Reunion celebrations had taken a lot out of us, not to mention sapped our energy. MG was fading fast. I looked like I had been pushed through a knothole. But Bill kept telling stories like a dog owner dishing out kibble and Eddie ate it up. What happened next was a miracle. Gus got up and walked away. Bill topped off his drink then topped off his story.  MG said, “It’s time to go. We need to be in our place at the parade lineup tomorrow  by 9:30 am. Bill and Gus are you leaving with us?”
“Sure.  I can drive us back,” Bill said.
“And I have a brand new California drivers license hot off the press,” Gus blurted out.
“ I can drive on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays before 8:00 pm in months ending with Y! Just tell me when to turn.” (Okay, this is MG putting pictures to Lav’s hilarious story. I’m laughing so hard, I’m crying.)
Ralph piped up, “And I can take you kids back to the motel in my Mercedes VW but you’ll have to answer a short quiz.”

(Who is Ralph?)

Sheesh. At least we avoided a showdown. It was more like a slowdown.  I would tell you about the quiz and the drive back to the motel, but that’s another story.

I have been the victim of COVID. I got it from my husband, Kip who hasn’t been anywhere except Lowe’s in months. He did go to church several times but everyone knows church is not the hotbed of germs like Lowe’s is. Only tough guys and girls go to Lowe’s. People used to meet in the plumbing area on Sundays when we couldn’t go to church…and only wimps wore masks. My how things have changed.

I just heard on television that the CDC doesn’t care if you don’t quarantine even if a covid infected husband I mean person coughs right in your face.

I kind of miss the masks. My chin fell a foot when I took mine off. I wore it for two years then I came to find out it wasn’t any good because it wasn’t a K95. I thought those were for my dogs…could be why they remain covid free to this day.

I really sympathize with Doctor Fauci. I see he recently tried to switch from wearing a mask to pitching to one. Like the guy in the cartoon, it didn’t end well.

I’m feeling better. The dogs and I went to Tyler with Kip, today. He had a dermatologist appointment. The dogs and I were really happy to get out of the house. We begged (me more than the dogs) to go to Sonic for bacon, egg, and cheese toasters. Our nice master even took us for a walk. We got to go around the building twice after which we got our choice of a full bowl or half a bottle of water.

Where was I going when I started this? Who knows and who cares. I’m 70ish.

PS. I’m having all kinds of fun doing this 70ish thing with my Cuskin, Lav… we’ve got some fun stuff up our sleeves along with the Kleenex we stuff up there like Grandma used to…

Keep your ear to the ground but only if there is someone there to help you up. If you can’t hear anyway, then stand tall and talk loudly.