Friday, September 13, 2013

Three Big Girls and A Dog



September 13, 2013

“Hello, welcome back,” chirped the scale. Shoot, I was sneaking a weigh-in at my client’s yet was embarrassed to have the scale voice blurt out my actual weight. She is ancient (compared to me) and her eyesight is terrible (hence the talking scale) and yet her hearing may be better than mine. I could not take the chance, so I fretted about the gain, and celebrated the loss, without actually knowing the truth. Probably best. Might have had to eat a bowl of popcorn instead of a plate of spaghetti with a Caesar and hard roll for dinner. Better not add cheesecake and sugar, added to a bit of coffee laced with cream, to be on the safe side.

Three chubby girls, with braids and colorful beads laced into their hair stopped Ty and I on the sidewalk in front of the For Rent sign. They ran to gather ‘round us and ask how old is the dog, it is a he or she, does he eat bread, can he have some cereal (it looked like Cocoa Puffs so I declined) and when is his birthday? Does he get a cake or just a bone? Can we pet him, I am not afraid of dogs but I am allergic, can he come into the house with us, he is the same age as her. Then dad boomed, “You’d better leave that lady and her dog alone, get back up here and bring your little sister along.” They scuttled back up the stairs to the man, standing erect like a sand hill crane, on the saggy porch. He was smoking and laughing at their girlish antics, winking at me in alliance. I saluted him and moved on, collecting trash, recycling and leaving behind collaborative intention.

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