Archive for December, 2015

Attention seeking

“The dinner went well?”

Marlene often asked questions with her back turned.

“Riotous, as expected. But a success.”


“In order, G-ma arranged a near formal entrance for herself, by way of a perceived slight. Possibly by me.”

“What did you do?”

“The tables and chairs were crammed together to accommodate everyone. She chose an impossible route to the least accessible chair in the room. I advised against it, offered to convey her plate while she re-routed.”

“She exited the room, of course.”

“Yes, caused quite a ripple, but Nene handled her. Simply said ‘Mom? What’s going on?’, then went into the kitchen and ushered her back. By then everyone else was seated and five people had to rise to let her pass.”

“A triumph all around.”

“And then Nene opened with ‘Does anyone here like Donald Trump?'”

“She’s not always as sweet as can be, is she?”

“She said it sweetly, and her brother actually let his hand start to rise. I believe he stammered a couple words before the din of scorn overwhelmed him.”

“He’s been listening to his buddy Joe.”

“Joe, yes. You unfollowed Joe because of his tirades didn’t you?”

“I didn’t unfriend him.”

“Did I say unfriended?”

“No dear.”

“Outside of that it was pretty much all Gigi’s show.”

“She’s a sweetie. She was supposed to be a teacup.”

“And cost ‘Jack must not know’. I remember.”

“She attacks the biggest dogs. She’s fearless.”

“A Yorkie the size of a small cat, yes. Everyone was warned again about feeding her scraps. The near death experience, the pancreatitis, was recounted yet again to make sure we were all in line about it.”

“Can’t be too careful.”

“Of course she came pleading to everyone during dinner. I’ll bet she was next to me ten times. Very polite with the ‘I want something’ look.”

“You didn’t.”

“Of course not, I doubt anyone did. But by dinner’s end she was being scooped into people’s laps and petted.”

“Even closer to the food. That’s a bit perverse.”

“As it turned out, the begging wasn’t about the food.”

He left it silent, smiling until she broke down and turned.

“What are you talking about? Why are you laughing?”

“In the end she went under the table and peed on G-ma’s foot. She’d been begging for an hour to go out. Couldn’t get it across.”






not quite left out


“No. Gigi does not get ‘people food’. She overindulged, or was overindulged a few years ago, got very sick. Nearly died of pancreatitis.”

She was supposed to have been a teacup, and Nene had paid a price she would only describe as “Jack Can Never Find Out.” Failing but one expectation Gigi had grown to a mini, the size of a small house cat, adorable, cuddly and willing to attack dogs one hundred times her weight when they invaded her territory. Of the sixteen dinner guests only a couple were unfamiliar with the dog’s gastric history. The kids all knew. Nene’s mother G-ma knew. The newbies were duly apprised and the buffet commenced with seating for all, at two tables, in the dining room.

“I don’t think you can get through this way Maxine. It’s so crowded I can’t even move my chair. I can take your plate and you can go around the other way.”

My offer ended G-ma’s initial bid for the least accessible seat in the room, and she retreated, dinner in hand, to the kitchen. A slight panic swept through the mostly seated company. Theories pertaining to G-ma’s departure were rapidly traded, including my allowance that I may have offended her. Nene ended it quickly, leaping into the kitchen and accompanying G-ma back. All rose on the far side of the table to allow passage, and full seating was graciously achieved.

Nene opened the dinner conversation with:

“Does anybody here like Donald Trump?”

Her brother’s hand began a sheepish rise then fell limp at the immediate crescendo of contempt.

“I know, you’re so hungry aren’t you sweetie?”

Gigi had begun to make the rounds, stopping before or beside each person, sometimes lifting paw to human leg. Peering earnestly into the eyes of every potential benefactor.

“No treats for you, doglet!”

” I swear this is the tenth time she’s been here giving me that look! She’s such a little cutie she’s hard to refuse!”

On it went for an hour, the poor dog occasionally even being scooped up into a lap, closer to the food. She was mild mannered through it all and, in hindsight, seemed not all that interested in the food once it was at eye level. She had failed to be persuasive, failed to convince, and in the end her desire became need.

“Oh my gosh! Gigi just peed on my foot!”

“She wouldn’t do that G-ma!”

“When was she last out?”


Dearest Sun

I do not seem to you
Do I?
Too small to love.
(Imagine that you or your
deep flung Arab kin could love!)

I feel you fulcruming
The orbs
In our black bag
(Ask your gravity question
please, the one with no answer)