A MIDSUMMER DREAM

I have been posting things that I write for fun here for about four years now. The illustrations on the site are by Garnet, Sparkle Girl and Doobins.

From time to time, I post something by others. After my column about Buster ran in the paper, lots of people sent e-mails, called and sent cards. I am taking the liberty of posting some of the e-mails in Good-bye to His Dogness Part I, Part II and Part III.

From TAMMY M.:

Please accept my deepest sympathy for your loss. Your Buster sounds like a wonderful, loving soul and you are very lucky that he found you. I know EXACTLY what you are going through. 13 months ago, I lost by best friend, Buster the Wonder Dog. He was a stray found by my brother & brought to me 18 years before, at a time in my life when I was just getting over the loss of my previous dog. If he had arrived a month earlier, I would not have been ready to get another dog. He came at just the right time & never had any animal loved me like Buster.

He was as intelligent, playful & loving as any dog could be, but also protective of my family. He once stopped my father from leaving the house through a particular door by physically blocking his way & barking like mad. My father thought that was odd & went out another door, only to find a copperhead curled up against the outside of the front door. Had he opened that door, something bad would have happened for sure. We called him Marshall Buster because he would not tolerate any disturbance between our cats. If two of the cats had a “verbal disagreement,” Buster would go find them, separate them & escort whichever one he perceived to be the trouble maker out of the room.

I could go on about Buster all day, as I am sure you could about your beloved Buster. But you are so fortunate in a way I am not. You get to share the story of your loving friend with some many readers, which will undoubtedly generate hundreds of emails just like this one, from others who know just what it feels like to lose such a special soul. That will help you smile about the years of good times & stop focusing on the difficult end. All I could do at the time was to write a small “eulogy” for my guy & share it with family & friends. (See below) Their condolences helped a lot, as I am sure the many emails you will receive will help you.

And it will get better….Last Thanksgiving, we adopted a wonderful, 50-pound bundle of love named Bailey, whose antics have again filled our house with fun & laughter.

My Buster’s Eulogy:

After 18 loving years, our dog Buster went to heaven yesterday.

My heart is broken.

The world seems so much smaller today. Our home is empty and silent, filled with grief and sadness. So many times yesterday I thought I saw him, out of the corner of my eye, coming out of the bedroom or down the stairs to check on us & his beloved cats. I thought I could actually hear him, drinking from his water bowl, or going downstairs to see if the cats left any food on their dinner plates for him. My heart is broken.

But I also know that heaven is a little better today. Brighter and happier because of this wondrous soul’s arrival. I know my parents are happy to see him and that right now he is getting his tummy rubbed, as he lies beside my mother on a big, blue La-Z-Boy sofa. And I know that he isn’t hurting anymore. I know his big old heart, that no longer worked so well here on earth, is restored to its former glory. That heart never stopped loving Steve & me unconditionally and without boundaries, it just couldn’t keep beating any longer.

I know I am the luckiest person imaginable, to have had the honor of being loved by Buster for all these years. (And it was love at first sight. The moment I saw him, I knew I loved him.) I’m so lucky he made his way to me and stayed with me through thick & thin. I’m so lucky to have had the joy of knowing & loving him. I know there are a thousand ways that I am lucky and sometime soon, I am sure I’ll be able to think more about these than the emptiness of losing him. But today my heart is broken.

From DAWN & FRANK M.:

For years now, my husband and I have read your wonderful stories about Buster. We kept saying we should write to you about our dog, “Mocha” (a chocolate poodle) that we called “The Queen Pup”. She did a lot of funny things just like Buster. We also had to put her down because of cancer, blindness, deafness and she could hardly get around. At almost 17 years, we had loved her all we could and knew it was time to let her go. I am so so very sorry to hear of your dog’s passing. It’s a hard thing to deal with. I had gotten so used to her being beside me, in my lap, in the car. She went with me everywhere. I hope your heart will heal and you will be able to smile everytime you think of Buster. How lucky you were to have him for so long. I’m sure he loved every minute of his life with you.

Please know that your readers mourn the loss of your “best friend”. I feel so deeply your loss, because in reading your story, I felt mine all over again.

I hope you will in time get another dog. We did. Another poodle, this time a boy “Rudy”. He does a lot of “strange” and wonderful things to. My husband kids me that “poodles aren’t dogs, there just a strange religious cult”! Anyway, I just wanted to let you know we are thinking of you and are very sorry for your loss.

From ANNE N.:

Just wanted to let you know that your story in today’s paper was awesome and hit home with me. I had to put down my dog Max a little over a week ago and he was my dad’s dog. My dad passed away two years ago from Cancer so when I put Max down, it also made me miss my dad even more. But, as people kept saying, they like to think that my dad is walking Max up in heaven too. Thank you for sharing your story.

From DAWN C.:

It is through teary eyes that I am sending you this e-mail. I just finished reading your article about Buster in this morning’s WS Journal. My heart goes out to you. My husband and I lost our 16-year-old Basset hound Sassy 2 years ago. It was like losing a part of our family. We had got Sassy for our twins when they were 5 years old. She loved those boys and those ears perked up each time they were outside playing. After the boys grew up and went off to college, Sassy got more attention from me and my husband.

Each day when he got through working at the shop behind the house, he would stop and roll around on the ground playing with Sassy. In September of 2007, I was at work when my husband called and said he thought Sassy was dying. She had laid down in her doghouse and wouldn’t come out.

Thankfully the boys were home from college and was with their dad when she passed. I told the boys that we couldn’t go through this again so I wasn’t going to get another dog. Well, they told me they thought their dad would love another Basset. In November of 2007 Priss came into our lives. She is now the new ruler of our household.

She stays inside, has more toys than the twins had growing up and has her own pillow on our bed. We still miss Sassy but Priss has filled our hearts with a lot of joy. I just wanted to let you know that as a pet lover I know how you feel. Thanks for sharing your story with your many readers.

From E. S.:

Sorry to hear about your dog passing, I know it was a hard decision to make. I often wondered why would people cry after their pet died, it’s because you get so attached to them and they become part of your family.

We had three Yorkies, and each one of them had their own personality. And I loved them all, as if they were my kids. All of them are gone now, but I still have a piece of them in my heart. I hope you can find some comfort during your loss.

From LESLIE H.

Even knowing it was coming, Buster’s passing is really sad, but your story was perfect. We have such great memories of our Sunday dog walks (and in some cases, shoulder rides) with you in Old Salem. We’ve missed them, even though Buster and Dixie were both quite independent, parallel played rather than much relating. Those were very special times.

So thanks for sharing Buster with us and so many others, both in person and through His Dogness’s legacy.

From SUSAN F.:

So I began my morning with a little cry as I read your sweet tribute to Buster. What I appreciated most about your story was your use of two words — joy and gift — because that is truly what our companion animals bring to our lives. And I’m sure your Buster was equally blessed to have been rescued by a person who would realize what a treasure he was.

Please accept my sympathy for the loss of your friend, and thank you for sharing his life with your readers over the years.

From HETTI M.:

I have followed Buster and your friendship for years and share in your loss of a dear friend. I’m so glad Garnet and the kids have come into your life. Oftentimes this happens; our dearly departed souls have a way of looking after us.

THE SPIRIT WITHIN US

Yesterday afternoon I returned to my home after my precious Penny went to sleep for the last time at the vets office. Stumbling around my kitchen, looking for something, anything, to relieve the pain I felt at
that moment, my eyes fell on the picture of Buster on the lower left corner of the Journal. I read the article and sobbed. I was feeling that Spirit (God), plays cruel games. We get the company of our wonderful pets for such a very short time, don’t we?

Our beautiful, mini-dachsund, Penny was 16, like Buster. Unlike you, we only had her company for two short years. See, she was owned, from a pup ,by some folks who gave her to us at 14 years of age. The ad in the Journal had said “Free to a Good Home”. Something possessed us to answer that ad.
Curious as to why someone would give away a dog that they had raised with their children we asked why. She had gotten “too needy” always wanted to be held, etc. She had no hair, tumor growths on her chest (she had breast cancer), and the worst halitosis you ever smelled!
But she was NEEDED, by us. She was needed to help us eat pizza, the finest “jelly babies” from England and snausages in bed at night! She was also needed to keep her furry brothers in line and boy did she! They all knew to behave around Penny! Rest assured, she was the most spoiled, loved dog for the last two years of her life.

Saying good-bye to Penny as she lay in my arms, her big brown eyes looking into my eyes, struggling to breathe was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my 57 years. I sure will miss my “needy” best friend!

From BONNIE D.:

I was so saddened to hear about your loss of Buster. January of last year I put down my beloved 17-year-old retriever mix, Clover, and I still think of her every day.

I was so lucky to have her and it’s obvious you felt the same way about Buster. As Will Rogers once said, “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

From DAVID R.:

We have gone through your experience twice. Once, we adopted an orphan dog named Bud, who was 12 and had been found roaming the streets of Naples. Two and a half years after he found his way into our lives he developed a variety of ailments, not the least of which was a severe case of arthritis, which kept him in pain 24 hours a day. Our vet, a very compassionate lady, told us when the time came for Bud to leave us. We cried all the way into Naples (from our home on Marco Island, 16 miles away) and we cried all the way home.

Three years later, our little dog Bo, at age 17 suffered from a huge malignant tumor in her abdomen. After three weeks of seeing her suffer, and on advice of the same vet, who had cared for Bo since she was 6 months old, we made the difficult decision. We still miss both of them, but we have two more young adult canines who have won our hearts.

From JEANNIE M.:

I saw the story about your sad loss and wanted to say how sorry I am.
My parents gave me a golden retriever, Sugar, when I was five. She lived to be 19. After I left home, she was still “my dog” and slept with me whenever I visited. She always knew me, even after she lost most of her sight. How I loved that dog. I mourned her after her death and have never had another dog. We stick to cats now. They are low maintenance and rarely allow emotional encumbrances.

From BILL & MARCY L.:

It was this time of Holy Week in 2004 that we spent the last days with our beloved pet and reading your piece was a 2-tissue tearjerker for me. You see, we ended up retiring here and I never had so much time with any of our dogs over the past 50 years as I had with Chipper. You have your nice writing for Buster, I wrote this six years ago about Chipper:

FAREWELL CHIPPER

He was a royal guy, sired by Alexander from St. Nick and the dam, Missys Molly Sue. His gate was just like the Shih Tzu’s on the floor of Madison Square Garden, a little faster than we could walk. The ancient ancestral history of cave dwellers was evident when after last year’s stomach surgery; he spent three days under our skirted ottoman. But the other ancient trait, that of a lap sitter for Chinese Emperors was also evident, brought to modern times in laying between my legs on the recliners footrest. Lap sitting was too warm for him; after all, he was a Minnesota dog!

Marcy sat on the stairs in the foyer of the breeder, four brothers all about her. She carefully petted and played with each one. I asked her, “How did you choose this particular one”? She said, “He was the most chipper of the litter”. And so it was on New Years Eve of 1996 that Chipper became a member of our family. The second night I didn’t want to listen to his pitiful barking from the kitchen so I brought his cage next to our bed. The Shih Tzu was quiet all night, kinda like in a cave and next to the Emperor all in one bedroom.

Just like Prince told us one Thanksgiving that it was time, Chipper told us yesterday, Easter Sunday 2004 that it was time. His mandibles were shot; allowing his lower jaw to dislocate. A week ago he quit eating even soft food and drinking from his bowl; probably the activity felt funny or painful. Mom kept him going last week with hourly syringes of water shot onto his tongue and twice a day liquid food administered from her turkey baster. Bravely she injected the I-V liquid under the skin on his back and the lubricating eye drops. She slept on the couch all week, ready to carry him outside during the night whenever needed. Chipper was a great communicator and we waited for him to tell us.

I kept the grass cut short off the patio, the way he liked it. Last night he couldn’t handle the 10’ walk back to the door. This morning he would not even stand or move his tongue when the water syringe was used. He disdained even looking at the squirrels. I wanted to wait until our overnight company arrived, but the panting breath from his dry mouth was more than both of us could bear. With eyes nearly closed and body absent of the trembling in stormy weather like today, we wrapped him in his back-seat beach towel and said our tearful goodbye at Abri Veterinary. Later this week we’ll spread his ashes around the trees where his tormentors live in nests high above what was always his terrain to protect.

P.S. I never had the guts to spread his ashes. They are still here with me in my office; along with our Beaga-Poo (beagle-poodle), Nipper!

BLUE MOON

Thank you for sharing Buster’s life with us over the years and allowing us to share in your loss. The older I get, the more thankful I am for the dogs that have trained me in becoming (I hope) a better human being. I can only aspire to their total and unconditional love; I can only hope to be even half as good a person as they seem to think I am.

No matter how bad my day at work has been, when I walk in the back door at the end of the day, I become an instant celebrity, worshiped and adored. It’s hard to be glum or blue amid wagging tails, slobbering jowls and barks of joy.

When you think about it, they teach us a lot about life, and I think part of that is because we watch them go through the whole life cycle – the whole aging process in 10 or 15 years. They teach us about the energy and joy of “puppydom,” the loyalty and devotion of maturity and, when they leave us, the inevitability of having to let them go. And letting them go is heartbreaking for us, but (and this has to be true, my friend) a welcome release for them and our final gift of love.

Our dog, Sadie, is a pit/pointer/something/something that we inherited from a daughter’s failed marriage (Sadie had helped raise our oldest granddaughter and we could not let her be taken away from the family). Anyhow, she’s become the canine love of my life.

She’s 10 now and her muzzle is getting gray, and she shows an occasional limp on her walks and doesn’t jump a lot anymore. And I know what’s coming. And when it happens, or is done, I will grieve just like I have several times in the past and swear that I will never get another dog, and, within a month or two there will be another yapping, joyous puppy in my life.

There always will be a dog in my life, Kim, because, you know what — my hair is now gray and I’m starting to limp sometimes and I don’t jump a lot anymore.

From CANDY W.:

My thoughts were with you this morning when I read your column about Buster. Over the years I came to know and love Buster through your columns and books. My heart goes out to you because I know what it’s like to thoroughly love a dog and then have to make a decision to put him to sleep.

Three years ago we had to make the same decision about our beloved dog, Lucky. He was 18 years old or thereabouts. We had gotten him at the pound, and the vet estimated he was about a year old at the time. So we loved and enjoyed him for 17 years, but, toward the end, it wasn’t much fun for Lucky, and we made the difficult decision. I still miss him terribly as he was “my” dog even though we got him for Alex. Alex named him Lucky because he said he was lucky to get out of the pound.

I loved what your stepson said about Buster. “I liked that I loved him.” I think that sums up how most people feel about their pets.

From LINDA D.:

I’m so sorry to hear Buster is gone. They just don’t stay around long enough!!

We’re dealing with a 14-year-old, just taking it a day at a time. Your article really resonated with me and is a great tribute to our bond with dogs. But, in the end, we can give our four legged friends the ultimate gift of mercy….I’ve always said “You’ve gotta love them enough to let them go”.

Thinking of you, there’s another Buster out there somewhere!

From KATHRYN F.:

As a dog lover, my heart goes out to you on the loss of Buster. Your article in the paper today is a wonderful tribute to a faithful companion. My prayers are with you and your family.

From SARAH M:

You have become a friend over the years through your column. You have my deepest sympathy over your loss of Buster. Isn’t it amazing how something so dear can just drop into you life and become almost as dear as life? God meant for you two to be together.

I had to put my Beagle, Roxie, down last year because of severe heart problems. I cried buckets! About four months later my daughter called and told me a friend had walked into her workplace trying to find a home for a Beagle-type dog named Roxie!!!!!

You can guess the rest!!

Since I am now 76 and she is rather young (not sure how young), we may be together for the rest of our lives. She is a Heinz 57 variety and beautiful, blond, very short legs, has a black tongue and loves me!!

It is mutual. I hope you can find another Buster.

From ANNA F:
Just read your article on Buster. I am at the same point with my little monster Hannah. I was lucky enough to come into the Humane Society the day after she arrived in 1995. At that time her age was estimated at 1 1/2. She has been a member of my home ever since. She has brought me joy and unconditional love but I will soon have to make the decision of what is best for her instead of my desire to keep her with me. She also suffers from dementia (standing in a single position as if she can’t remember why she came into the room), running into walls, wandering down the sidewalk to the neighbor’s patio. It is still such a joy to watch her on her good days. I will miss her when it is time to let her go.

I don’t really know why I’m writing this except to let you know there are a lot of us out here who feel the same as you. Thanks for saying what a lot of us can’t.

From ANN H.:

I just read your column about Buster, and I am just remembering you and him and thinking of my own connection to my beloved dog Vincent — 7 years old this summer. Now I understand how significant the relationship between a dog and a human being can be. I understand the feeling of coming home to a house empty of people but full of the energy of a warm, easygoing, trusting, unjudging companion. It is such a precious thing.

From KAREN F.:

I read your article in Monday’s paper about Buster. He sounds like he was a wonderful dog and companion! I wanted to give you my condolences and say I know exactly how you feel. I had to put my 12-year old husky down last August; he was like a son to me.

I am 40 years old, and didn’t marry until two years ago. Sergei (my dog’s name) was there for me in so many bad and lonely times and also experienced some of my adventures as well when nobody else was there to share them with me! (I moved to Florida to start my own marketing consulting and design company with no address and no idea where I would end up. It was just me and Sergei in the car and a moving van tagging along about a week behind us, waiting for an address to unload!)

I wanted to connect with you to share my newly formed 501c3, The Sergei Foundation; it helps those who feel exactly the way we did about our pets but who cannot afford (literally cannot afford, not that they just don’t want to pay on their credit card, etc.) to save them or give them treatment. I know how guilty I felt when I had to put Sergei down knowing I did everything for him along the way. I could only imagine how someone might feel if they were not as fortunate as I was to pay to save their “family member” like I did over the years.

Please take a look at our website: www.SergeiFoundation.org for more information.

Thank you, and I hope you find the joy you did with Buster in another canine companion soon. I was hesitant to get another dog thinking I would never feel the same. I saw a puppy with the same blue eyes as my husky and felt it was a sign to get him, and it was only 1 month after Sergei died. It has helped to heal my heart tremendously, although I will never, ever forget Sergei. I guess this foundation is my way to keep him alive in my heart and feel like I can help others who feel the same about their family dog.

.

.

I LOST MY SUMMER GARDEN

The other day, he was eating a chocolate cake doughnut. We asked him how he could eat it without having to have a drink of milk.

“My suspenity, of course,” he said.

We have moved into a phase when the timer plays an integral role in his life. When he wants to play on the computer, we may turn the timer to 30 minutes, hand it to him and tell him that, when it dings, he’s done.

When it’s time for timeout, we turn it to the designated time and hand it to him. Nothing more needs to be said. He knows that, when it dings, he can come out of his room.

The other day — a different day than Suspenity Day — Sparkle Girl, Garnet and I all managed to irritate him at the same time. Done with us, he went and got the timer and turned it all the way around to the maximum it will measure — one hour.

“I’m going in my room, and I’m not coming out until it dings,” he said.

I was already planning to go to the store, and, after his dramatic exit, the shift in energy made it seem like a good time to go.

Indulging an opportunity to needle him, I said in a voice loud enough to ensure that he could hear me in his room, “I think I will go to the store and buy a scrumptious chocolate cake.”

Right there with me, Sparkle Girl, also speaking loud enough for him to hear, said, “That’s a great idea, Kim.”

It was a slow time at the store and we didn’t need much more than milk and half-and-half, so I was driving back up to the house in 15 or 20 minutes. With every intention of continuing my evil ways, I called Garnet to tell her that I was planning to wave the cake under his window.

No need, she said. The timer had dinged a couple of minutes earlier, and Mr. Doobins had emerged from his room wondering whether the cake had arrived yet.

OCEAN THOUGHTS

I had done a story on Zumba. After I came home, Garnet was sitting in her chair in the Green Room. From there, she could see me standing in the kitchen next to the stainless-steel trashcan. Sparkle Girl and Doobins were elsewhere.

I decided to show Garnet some of my Zumba moves, which got Garnet laughing.

“What’s going on?” yelled Sparkle Girl from her bedroom. (She likes to be fully informed at all times.)

“Kim is dancing with a trash can,” Garnet said.

“Of course he is,” said Sparkle Girl.

A Doobins story:

Garnet and Mr. Doobins were playing in Mr. Doobins’s room.

When I went in, Garnet said that Doobins was insulting her.

What did he say?

That her armpit smelled like cucumbers.

Mr. Doobins is not a fan of cucumbers (or many other vegetables). So I can see how he would think that was an excellent insult.

“That’s a great insult,” I said to him.

In exasperation, he said, “Would you stop complimenting my insults.”

Creation of Light by Sparkle Girl

“Today we said goodbye to Katey for the last time, and told her how much we loved her, and told her how much she added to our lives. Katey would have been 15 years old in April, so she had a very long life – much longer than you would predict for a dog of her size. Though she had a lot of years, it wasn’t nearly enough for our family.

We adopted Katey from the Guilford County Animal Shelter in July 1994 when she was a little more than 3 months old. The tag at the shelter said she was a “Golden Retriever mix” and she was a scared little puppy. She wouldn’t even let us get very close for the first few days and it was weeks before anyone else could get close enough to pet her. The folks at the animal shelter suspected that she had been badly abused. But love won out, and we loved her more than she will ever know.

She was 1/3 of our family and no decision was ever made without consideration of Katey. We built our current house when she was 2 years old. We picked out this location because the lot sizes are larger than most developments and we wanted a large yard for Katey. We moved in on a Friday and paid the fence guys extra to fence in the whole backyard over the weekend so she could have a big, safe yard for her new home. This became her empire and she knew every inch and every smell in the yard. In the early years she was a full-time yard dog but gradually progressed to a full-time house dog. When she was younger, she was terribly frightened by thunderstorms and couldn’t get quite close enough as she burrowed into our arms. It was a mixed blessing about 3 years ago when she pretty much lost all her hearing since she never knew when the storms came after that.

Katey was about the best hiking and traveling companion we could imagine. She loved to “go for a ride” and would jump in the car and wait for us to get ready. When we got deep enough in the woods to let her off her leash, she would run ahead on the trail just a little, then stop and run back or wait for us to catch up, but she never let us out of her sight. Being a retriever, she dearly loved the water and jumped into every stream and lake she could find just to go for a little swim. She loved to jump into the edge and lie down until she was submerged to the shoulders. On winter hikes, she would sometimes get frustrated when her water holes were frozen over. But she loved the snow. She always plopped down and rolled over until her beautiful golden coat was covered. The first time we took her to the beach on a camping trip, she thought the ocean was the biggest water bowl she had seen and she took a massive gulp before coughing and spitting as she learned her lesson. She still loved to jump and bark at the waves coming ashore but seldom tried to drink the salt water again.

As most of our family members and friends know, Katey endured our endless Christmas pictures. We posed her by the Christmas tree, by the inflatables in the yard, sitting in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace, and dressed her in ridiculous reindeer antlers. She was very patient with us because, of course, she knew treats were coming. There was always a Santa bag for her behind the Christmas tree and we only had to say the words, “Santa bag” for her to run to her bag and wait for a treat. That didn’t work very well the past couple of years, though, since she had lost her hearing, but the treats kept coming.

Everyone thinks his or her dog is the best and sweetest dog, but few people ever met Katey without commenting on how sweet she was. She had a very gentle personality and was mostly calm throughout her life, especially with strangers. As with all dogs, smells were her world and she had to sniff every new person, animal, and surrounding she met. She was never aggressive and learned early on only to bark when a stranger came into her yard. Her bark sounded pretty ferocious, though, and it came in handy sometimes when somebody trying to sell us something came to the door. Saying no was easier with Katey’s husky bark going on.

Recently her health had declined and her hips just couldn’t hold her up well at all. She slipped on non-carpeted floors very badly and didn’t have the muscles and strength to get back up by herself. She had lost a lot of weight so it was pretty easy to pick her up and carry her out to the backyard. She didn’t eat very well unless we gave her treats, and I think she was more interested in getting something special from us than the food content. She was having a lot of bad times and some bad days, and there didn’t seem to be much relief coming. Fortunately, Dan had 2 weeks off for Christmas and spent every day with her. After that time, it seemed her health declined until it broke our hearts to see her struggle just to move. We can’t say it was clear that the time had come, because it’s never clear when the end is here if you have to make that decision for a loved one. And we loved Katey more than we can put into words.

Remember, Katey was officially listed as a “Golden Retriever mix” and there were many guesses about the “mix” part. Some said maybe a little shepherd or a little chow. It didn’t matter to us what her heritage was. We always knew she was mixed with pure angel. She was our angel for almost 15 years and she is God’s full-time angel now.

We will always love her and her spirit will be with us every day for the rest of our lives.”

Dan & Margaret

THE DRABISH THRONE ROOM

It’s a little known fact that King Arthur had a third cousin twice removed who was also a king — King Muchafrech of Ish.
Unfortunately, Ish was too small to have many of the swell things that his third cousin twice removed had.
King Muchafrech had no armies. He had no round table — just a plain rectangular one that seated 12. Even that was more than he needed because he had only one knight.
So he had little to do but sit around his throne room all day.
One day, as he sat staring at the gray stone walls, he said, “My throne room is certainly drabish.”
His Jester, whose name was Chester, couldn’t have agreed more because, in between jokes and cartwheels, he, too, spent much of his time staring at the gray stone walls.
“Sire, if you will permit me,” said Chester the Jester, I will undrabish it.”
Boy, did he ever.
When he was done, each wall was covered with stripes and swirls and diamonds in at least two clashing colors.
“Oh, my,” said the king. “It is most certainly no longer drabish but I fear that now it is obnoxiousish.”
The king put a hand over his eyes and said, “Next!”
In came his gardener, whose name was Tiller McGee.
“Oh, sire,” said Tiller, “I have long longed to add my artistic touches to the throne room.”
When he was done, the walls were covered in vines. The rectangular table was covered with rose bushes, and the seat of the throne was covered with petunias.
“There is nowhere for me to sit and nowhere for me to each lunch,” said King Ish. “This is far too lushish! Next!”
In came his only knight, Sir Lunchalot. He used to have two knights but the other one became so tired of the drabishness that he ran away. You may have heard of him. His name was Lancelot.
Sir Lunchalot was a big believer in a hearty meal served piping hot, and it bothered him how long it took the food to be brought from the kitchen. At best, it was lukewarm and sometimes it was lukecool.
So he turned the throne room into a kitchen with a grill set up right next to the table.
“I like a hot meal as much as you do,” said King Muchafrech. “But this is far too kitchenish for a throne room. Next!”
In came Princess Eleanor. She painted all the walls pink, hung a pink disco ball from the ceiling and lined the walls with shelves of dolls.
“I love you more than anything Princess Eleanor,” the king said, “but this is far too girl pinkish for a throne room. Next!”
“Oh, daddy,” she said, “I forgive you.”
The Wizard Zap came in and said, “Sire, the problem is not that the room is too drabish, obnoxiousish, lushish, kitchenish or girl pinkish, it’s that the royal rump is too uncomfortable on the typicalish throne.
“What you need is a fully reclining, back-massaging, heated throne.”
With a swirl of his wand and a loud zap, just such a throne appeared.
King Muchafrech stretched out in the chair sighed, and said, “I believe you’re onto something. This is awesomish.”
In his relaxed state, he thought of the perfect solution for the walls — tapestries.

Garnet was going to be gone for a while on the Saturday before Mother’s Day. I told Sparkle Girl and Doobins that I thought that would be an excellent time for them to work on their Mother’s Day cards.

They said that sounded fine with them.

When the time came, though, Mr. Doobins was not the least bit interested in working on a card.

It was only with pressure from me that he came up with a message for me to write inside.

We then went through another round about decorating the outside. After more pressure, he took a minimalist approach. He drew a single Lego brick.

By then, I was thoroughly irritated. But having a major falling out with him over a Mother’s Day card seemed absurd so I decided to let it go.

On Mother’s Day, Doobins gave Garnet his Lego brick card, and Sparkle Girl gave her the mermaid card that she had made.

Then Doobins pulled the card he had made at school out of his backpack. It was a masterpiece. On it, he had drawn the Eiffel Tower, the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall of China, Big Ben, the Great Pyramid and Sphinx, and Easter Island.

“Oh, drat,” he said, “I forgot Stonehenge.”

Looking at it, I could see why all he had left in him was a Lego brick.

A couple of days later, Mr. Doobins said, “I wish I was in heaven with Buster.”

“What was it that you liked about Buster?” I said.

“I liked that I loved him,” Mr. Doobins said.