what a day

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT A DAY

  My teenage daughter, Cindy, and her friend Molly, were only pretending to be interested in their cell phones. I could tell they were eyeing me with their peripheral vision as I sipped my coffee and picked at the remainder of my breakfast.  I would occasionally glance at the wall clock and resume coffee sipping, slowly, ever so slowly and leisurely. They were definitely having difficulties restraining themselves from leaping out of their chairs at the slightest indication that I was  ready to go....go to the Clear the Shelters event at the pound where Molly was hoping to adopt a ...anything, cat, dog, potbellied pig. Anything in need of rescuing and unlimited love. I was the authorized, "competent" adult along for the ride with Molly's mother's  list of acceptable animals and cell number for verification in case Molly fell in love with some odd exotic absolutely-out-of the-question fur baby, though in my thinking those kind of babies didn't exit. 
 

 I pushed my chair back and stood up. Bing! Bing! So did Cindy and Molly, only to re-sit themselves when they saw me refill my coffee cup. My terrier Scruffy, who was pretending to nap at my feet, raised his head and pointed his ears up then collapsed his head back down on top of his paws, just as disappointed.  
 

  Raising the coffee cup to my lips I paused and lowered it to the counter top. "Everyone ready?"

 

  The girls sprang into action and raced out the door to the car, followed by Scruffy. "Hey, I just asked, didn't mean I was ready!" I yelled after them. Oh well, I guess it's time, if I postponed this any longer I would be turned in on some kind of  cruelty to minors charge.

 

  Parking at the pound was at a premium. Why was today so busy? All these prospective pets have been here for months, why was the public so interested in them today? Oh yeah, to help project Clear the Shelters pet adoption fees were reduced tremendously to a more affordable rate.  I hope this didn't allow individuals with limited income to adopt something on a whim they couldn't afford to maintain. That's me, always looking at the opposite pole of good. Gosh sometimes I really need an attitude tune up.

   

  As we wriggled through the diverse horde, a guy bounced into Cindy when  a child on rolling tennis shoes who was only looking where he was going careened into him.  This contact with Cindy caused Scruffy’s neck hair to flare up like a porcupine as he emitted a low menacing growl, showing a row of sharp pointed teeth. Very odd. Scruffy was usually the most amiable of terriers. Guy apologized to Cindy, lowered his head and angled his course a bit more out of Scruffy's reach, and continued onward through the throng.

  “That man touched me,” Cindy exclaimed, indicating her breast. “I don’t think that was an accident.”

 

  “Now Cindy, it’s crowded in here and I saw the whole thing, I don’t think it was intentional,” I responded, not entirely convinced she was imagining things. Scruffy looked up at me, shook his head in disagreement, growled again and inched up closer to Cindy in his protector’s armor. He may be a small package, but so is dynamite. Well the guy was out of our personal space now.

 

 This event really seduced a horde of pet hungry humans; people were bumping, shoving and pushing into each other afraid they’d lose a chance to own the perfect companion. Kids (the anthropoid kind as well as the furry kind) were running about without obvious adult supervision oohing at all the animals.

 

 One little girl of about three  ran from kennel to kennel thrusting her hands in to grab excited dogs or cats by their collars then attempted to pull them out through the narrow bars while her mother tried to keep up with her, admonishing her to behave before she went to find her dad, to no avail. I don’t think that little girl is ready for a pet yet, but I know something she is ready for…. Oops, can’t print that information. The volunteers gave the  mother scathing looks, the animals were better behaved.

 

  After an hour of viewing and dismissing numerous options from cats to Guinea pigs to miniature goats Molly froze at one of the hundreds of kennels containing a dog that was a shy looking mix of…God knows what.  A tan and black short haired medium sized dog with soulful eyes, (Yeah, I know, they all have soulful eyes). Eyes that had also apparently seen a lot of disappointment since the attached card mentioned it had been fostered many times and was nearing its last few days. Scruffy bellied up to the kennel and laid his head down. Dog reached a paw out and stroked Scruffy’s noggin, an action that sent Scruffy’s tail into overdrive, then he met Molly’s eyes and nodded acquiescence. Awe.  I believe we found Dog’s and Molly’s forever friend. The price was right, the size was right, the age was right, the temperament was right, and to top it all off, Scruffy approved. That was important as Molly and Cindy spent a lot of time together.

 

Paper work filled out, money handed over, Dog, whose real name, we learned, is Duke, was hooked up to the leash we’d brought and handed to a thrilled Molly.  Released from his cage Duke perked up even more as he and Scruffy did the happy dance together. I mean I’m talking a very HAPPY HAPPY dance. Yes, they were going to be good chums. Our phone cameras were clicking away to record the first day of this forever event. Remember when you could only take so many pictures before you ran out of film?  No. Hmmm.

 

  As we went back to our car amid hundreds of other new pet owners, Guy zipped passed us to his engine red pick-up truck carrying over his shoulder the disorderly three year old we’d encountered earlier who was now hollering up a storm and wailing for mom. Mom must have carried through with her threat of handing her over to Dad. Scruffy immediately started barking viciously at the man, then ran at him snipping at Guy’s heels. Scruffy was not acting himself. Something was off with him today. I caught up with Scruffy, grabbed him by scruff of his neck, sternly admonished him, and found it was my turn to apologize to Guy who accepted my apologies hastily before climbing into his truck and revving up the motor for takeoff. I guess he and mom came in separate vehicles.

 

  I dropped Molly and Duke off at their home and just pulled into my drive way when my phone and Cindy’s went off on an Amber alert. Man that alarm always shakes me up, it’s so loud and insistent. I turned it off and plunked my phone in my purse as I opened the car door.

 

 “Hey mom, look at this,” Cindy said, holding her phone up in my face. She actually read the alert.

 

 I looked. And looked. The more I looked my stomach sank. A little girl named Shay had been taken from the Clear the Shelters event about thirty minutes ago. Could it have been….? The details all added up. It was the disorderly three year old. Guy was not her father,  Clear the Shelters had been loaded with tiny tykes, it had been a virtual  candy store for predators. Scruffy whined at me with an “I knew it, you should have trusted my instincts” tone.

 

 

  I retrieved my phone and dialed the police station, gave them what information I could, and was invited down to the station, along with Cindy, to examine mug shots and/or create a composite picture of Guy. I closed my car door but not before Rocky, Scruffy’s pet squirrel, sailed in. I didn’t have time to make him leave I just hit the gas, I’m sure if I got caught for speeding I’d get a get out of jail free card with my excuse.

 

 

  Before I turned off towards the Police station a red pick-up passed us, wait, not a red pick-up, the red pick-up! It was Guy going the speed limit and I saw Shay in the passenger side, without a car seat. Man, Guy was breaking all the rules today.

 

  “Cindy, call the police and tell them we’re in pursuit of the suspect,” I ordered as I pulled up behind him going sixty-seventy miles per hour. Did I sound police-y? “Give them the license plate number.”

 

  Up ahead, pass three cars, my suspect turned off the freeway onto a dirt road. Shoot, he’ll notice me now, only two cars on a deserted road in the woods, what are the chances he doesn’t use his rear view mirror.  

 

  “Mom, they’re telling us to not follow him, he could be dangerous.” 

 

  Are you kidding? Really? He kidnapped a three year old, that’s more like a coward to me, yet I pulled over into the bushes by the freeway to wait for the police when thirty minutes later Guy drove back out and returned to the expressway. Passenger’s seat was now empty. I turned into the woods and drove down the gravel road over branches and rocks until I came to a cabin.  A secluded cabin fairly deep  in the woods, now how menacing does that sound? I’m thinking chain saws and….now I’m going to stop thinking.

 

  “Stay in the car,” I said, ignoring my own orders, as did Scruffy and Rocky; naturally. They were well trained but they chose which rules to follow and beat me to the porch. Cindy however was very content to remain behind.

 

  I checked the door. Locked, of course.  I walked around the sides peering in windows. There Shay was, tied to a rickety old wooden kitchen chair, crying her little eyes out. The windows had bars on them, what on earth for, don’t folks trust anyone anymore? I tried unsuccessfully to bang the door on the front porch open with my shoulders. What I needed was some muscle.

 

 

  I heard a resonating clomp, clomp, clomp and looked towards the woods on the left.  What on earth is that? I panicked, was Guy coming back? And if so what was he doing?

 

  “Cindy, get out of here,” I yelled, she was too far away for me to get to before whatever was charging loudly in my direction through the trees became visible.

 

  Cindy backed the car up just as a moose pierced the parameters and charged right towards me. Scruffy dived into the open car window and the car jerked to a stop so fast Cindy’s head flew forward and the air bag popped then deflated.

 

  “Scruffy hit the brakes!” Cindy hollered, and irately tried to restart the car.

 

  The moose kept on coming full speed, (I’m guessing, what’s full speed for a moose?) right towards me. Moose leapt onto the porch and careened into the door smashing it to splinters. I peeled myself off the outside wall and was about to run towards the car when I saw him…Rocky was sitting on Moose’s back, vibrating from the impact and chattering wildly at me. Again I’m guessing as my squirrel-ese is limited, but I translated Rocky’s words into, “Get the kid and let’s roll, NOW!”

 

 

 

  I ran inside, tripping over splintered wood fragments,  untied the little girl, grabbed her, bolted to the car behind Rocky, pushed Cindy out of the way, and after taking a head count took off followed by Moose close behind. Just as I reached the freeway Guy returned, of course. We exchanged glances briefly and I could see the amazement on his face right before he spun his truck around. It took him a few minutes to circumvent around Moose who was blocking the road with his head down ready to go head to grill. Luckily I managed to get a five minute lead.

 

  I was half way to the police station with Guy in pursuit at last, who had somehow sustained considerable damage to his grill,  when a mess of squad cars caught up to us (finally, might I add) from all directions lights and sirens blaring. Touchdown… Homerun…. Whatever! The game was over for Mr. Guy.

 

  At home, again, I collapsed into a chair exhausted after all the day’s excitement while adrenalin driven Cindy called Molly to give a full account of all that happened after she was dropped off at her house.  I heard all the details repeated by Cindy. How Little Shay was back home with a grateful mother and Guy was in jail and would be for a very long time. How the moose had been claimed by his owner, a man who had a small wild life preserve nearby. He was utterly mystified on how Bullwinkle had gotten lose. There were no breaks in the perimeter’s fence. (Wait a minute, Bullwinkle and Rocky? Really, I didn't make that up) On the down side, the police crime investigators had found loads of evidence at the cabin of Guy’s past activities involving other not so lucky children.  My heart cried for the parents that were being called probably at this moment with the devastating news they had been waiting for and dreading, some for years, while I sat at home with my daughter, alive and well. Unfortunately not all stories have a happy ending, but thank heaven, this one did.

 

 

The exhausted duo of Scruffy and Rocky were on the patio being praised by two wispy figures, the guardian angels assigned to Cindy and her mom.

 

“You guys did a great job without us today.” One tall wisp said.

 

“Yeah, guys, a great job.” The second wisp affirmed with a slight hesitation with a sideways glance at his companion.

 

Scruffy and Rocky curled up side by side into two co-joined balls of fur, way too whacked to care about their celestial applauses and were asleep in Nano seconds. The angels levitated them gently onto their shared soft sleeping mat. They wouldn’t realize till morning the risks they had taken with the assumption the angels, their constant source of help, had had their backs.

 

Wisp number two confronted his partner, “Why did you tell them they did all this on their own, you know I let out the moose for Rocky to appropriate, and you tossed Scruffy into the car to hit the brakes so Cindy wouldn’t get away and leave her mom and Shay behind when that pervert returned? We so totally had their backs!”

 

“Come on, we don’t need all the credit every time, do we?”

 

“I guess not,” Wisp number two answered reluctantly as he spread his wings and headed home, followed by his more humble colleague.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

too late

Too Late

I sat at the back of the chapel because I might be called away any minute.
Not to mention, I was still mad at her. I recalled our last argument too well.
Therefore, I stayed at the back watching the mourners enter and walk down the aisle to view her body. So many exclamations of disbelief, no one had seen this coming. If only she were here to see the crowd asimilating, maybe she would have stayed, maybe not. If only I could summon her back, point my finger at her and say,” I told you so. See people really did care." Her spirit was willing to stay but her flesh was weak. Only I had any influence on her and I lost. She would not listen to me. Her arguments were stronger. She was convinced God would forgive her even if he didn't approve of her tactics. It wasn't the absence of God in her life that caused her do to this, it was the failure to continue with the meds that God had provided. It was user error, not the manufacturers. Her "true" friends held each other for comfort. She should have spoken to them earlier but people get uncomfortable with those kinds of conversations, and it would have embarrassed her. There wasn't enough experience in dealing with these topics despite the literature out there. I hope now they will seek out that literature, she sure should have.

I was amazed at some of the faces I saw come in. I wanted to yell,” Hypocrite", and "murderer". They hadn't actually manually killed her body but they massacred her spirit. They laughed at her. They teased her. They belittled her. They made her feel invisible, unimportant. She had responded with good humor, her mask a perfect fit to hide the pain, doubts and hurts. She had them convinced she couldn't be bruised. She was tough, fun, outgoing. She did enjoy a good laugh and applauded good retorts, but it was the sincere insults hidden in humor that got to her. She had used humor as a coat of armor. If she had just taken the mask off occasionally and tried honesty with some of these people maybe she'd still be here. She had God on her side and followed the rule of turning the other cheek but being only human, this got old. Kids can be cruel on the playground and it doesn't stop there. Cruel kids grow into cruel adults.

They weren't completely responsible for destroying her, because she had a big part in it. She had to constantly fight her body's responses to low hormones. She finally had discovered anti-depressants. As the body ages it produces less and less of desirable mood chemicals and needs a boost much as a diabetic needs outside insulin, or someone needs thyroid hormone. It is not shameful to be on pills. These pills gave her a boost but like anything, they can only do so much. She would feel better and lighten up on her meds, then swing down to the pit of despair again. Why should one take meds just to feel good around people? She would get to feeling blue and let the insults injure her. Nevertheless, her mask did a good job. She would retaliate with a joke, good humor. She wouldn't let the aggressor know they scored a point, that their blade had found the target. Boy, that was a fantastic mask; it was waterproof and concealed the tears. It made people think she was invulnerable. "Oh, if we didn't like you, we wouldn't tease you," or, "It's just her, its okay." were regular rejoinders. They took a pebble size hunk out of her soul with every recital. "That's just her," when she wanted to be taken seriously, "That's just her," when she blundered, "That's just her," when she tried to correct an error. She was eaten in small bites. If she had seen this crowd maybe she would have stayed.

They kept coming, friends (and foes) from church and from work. However, these misty-eyed people have short memories. In time, this will be forgotten. Though there is no one else like her someone else will be teased mercilessly and end up the same way. Cruel kids, cruel adults. I could hear someone asking questions, Why? How? What for? The questions were useless because if they could be answered it wouldn't reverse a thing. She would still be dead.

This was it the grand finale, the results of cruel kids grown up. She hadn't left a note. It wouldn't have solved anything. Why did they deserve any answers? It would have been like throwing pearls before swine.

The eulogy was nice, flowery, and vaguely generic. It hit the good points. Gave the family hope of seeing her again. Tried to educate the attendees on the subject of her method of death. Created sobbing. Said good-bye. Left the body just as dead. The words should have been spoken when she could hear them. She might not have believed them, though. Actions speak louder than words.

I watched as the figures filed past the coffin. They said good-bye. Some cried. Oh, give me a break, you didn't even like her, I thought. Maybe they had repented. There is hope for the next victim of depression. Some lingered, and were genuinely respectful. Some just went to follow the crowd. It really was her, they all thought." If we didn't like you we wouldn't tease you," became, "We liked you, why didn't you let us help you?" It was incredibly touching.

The family went last. I couldn't bear watching them so I closed my eyes. They were closest to her and they still had not noticed her broken spirit as they were caught up in their own problems. I did not feel real sorrow for them. As the guests exited, I could hear plans being made for lunch, tennis, movies.

Already forgotten. Other plans being made. Life goes on...for some.
I had been able to stay for the whole affair and then some. This surprised me. I had really expected to be called away. The lights were being turned off so I eventually got up, walked to the pulpit where ushers were getting ready to close the lid (they paid no attention to me) and I looked down at the tranquil face. They had not done her justice. No matter what they say, a corpse doesn't look good. A dead face just looks like it is caked in make-up.

Her spirit was definitely gone, I was one hundred percent certain. "Good bye old friend, I can't wait to be reunited with you in heaven." I kissed my forehead, turned to the last, brightest light, and went home.