Close to Nowhere
Fido is one of our stranger pets. He follows us around growling and “talking” constantly. I think his tail wags 24 hours a day. He tries to get in the car every time I leave or come home and if I leave the back door open for the breeze or to unload groceries, he’s in the house. He loves to come in the house. If he makes it in, the only way to get him out is to pick him up and carry him. And he’s heavy.
I may not have mentioned this, but Fido is a duck – an old duck, a great big duck. Every dog at our houses is terrified of him. You don’t get between Fido and the humans. We’re his humans and even the blue heeler is scared of him.
Son Kris is not an animal person. He tolerates the little dog in the house, but he’s not fond of the German shepherd puppy or any of daughter Dana’s horses, dogs, cats, chickens, ducks, etc. Fido is technically her duck. According to Fido, we are all his humans, but...
My health has not been perfect these last couple years; nothing major, just inconvenient. I am still suffering mightily with the pulled groin muscle and have been going to an eye doctor and getting shots in my eyes every six weeks or so. No, it’s not fun.
I had cataract surgery in my left “bad” eye last week. It’s been kind of weird because I can now see out of one eye and not the other. So I had a brilliant idea. I got some of those reader glasses and at work Monday I was wearing two pair of glasses.
I have never been able to read in a moving car. I get extremely nauseous with my eyes bouncing around. Turns out that if you have one good eye and one not good eye and you wear two pair of glasses you are going to get really sick (me anyway).
I came home from work way early Monday and son Kris met me at the door. He’s always been the mother hen type and once again, he started right in nagging and taking care of me. He made me Jello, he hauled and carried everything I thought I needed and he fed Riva, the German shepherd, for me. That was way above his comfort zone. Then, when it was time for her to go out, he took care of that also.
Kris is physically handicapped and things are harder for him than the rest of us. But since Pop passed away, Kris has jumped in and takes very good care of me when I’m sick or I need help. Sure, he nags a lot about me going to a doctor, but I can take that.
He always remembers my birthday and Christmas and Mother’s Day, which at my house is a huge deal, as he’s the only one who does.
But when I’m sick or broken, he makes me chicken noodle soup or brings me my diet Pepsi or Sprite Zero. When my blood sugar falls to low, he brings me peanut butter and milk. And he hates peanut butter. The smell even bothers him.
I am so lucky to have someone who wants to take care of me. You never tell people how much they mean to you, but Kris fed Riva Monday night. He’s still not on friendly terms with Fido, and I don’t think he’ll come around, but he will help me with them. For someone who doesn’t like animals that’s a big deal.
Thank you, Kris. You’re a good son!