THE BUD SAGA - PART 4

When my children were little, I loved to rock them to sleep. It was one of the things I missed most when each of them got too old to clamber onto my knee, put chubby arms around my neck and nestle tiny heads on my shoulder. Last night, my 2 year old grandson didn’t want to go to bed at the allotted hour, so we put on his pyjamas, and M’mère carried him to the rocking chair. Although he snuggled up and fell to sleep nearly immediately, it was much later when I carried him back upstairs. His older brother, who is 5, was allowed to stay on the couch with me, hugging close, until he, too, sound asleep, was carried to bed. Their mom nodded understanding when she got home and I told her about it. “The occasion was there,” she agreed, “you needed to use it.” It was a mother’s smile she gave me; she understood exactly what I was feeling.

I didn’t get home until late, and I watched the sun’s first rays touch my mountain before shutting my eyes; it was noon before I woke. Half the day is gone, and a beautiful day it is too, so I’ll post my 4th chapter of the Bud Saga, and then get my butt outdoors. Here we go.

Some more of YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT???

Zombie is me when I first wake up. Upon opening my eyes the next morning, the first thing I saw was a clock sitting on a bedside table. It read 8:15. But it wasn’t my clock, and it wasn’t my table. Where was I?

It took a couple of seconds to get my bearings, and by that time the phone rang again. Its shrill had wakened me.

I stumbled out of bed and grabbed my dressing gown, struggling to pull it on, simultaneously inserting my feet into flip-flops, alias slippers. I had succeeded with one, but the other kept avoiding my foot. I was pushing it along ahead of me, still trying to manoeuvre the toe-hold into place, when OWYEE! Pain, massive pain. My left shin had connected solidly with the chair barrier at the top of the stairs. Moaning, I tried to rub it numb as I watched the culprit go sliding down. It stopped to lodge halfway, once again blocking my path.

Briiing! The phone.

I limped down as quickly as I could, grabbed the darned chair, and continued my wavering descent. I was feeling my way, because the seat obstructed my vision. I didn’t see, only felt, the squish when I put my foot on the level floor. Just the texture alone, even in my stupor, would have told me what it was. The awful smell confirmed the fact.

Briiing!

“Yyyuck!” I looked down with disgust. It was oozing over the toes of my right foot... And the stink! I held my breath, dropping the chair to hold my nose as I gingerly slipped out of the flip-flop. It stuck there. That type of footwear is not pooh protective! Both sides of my foot were covered with the stuff.

Briiing!

How many swear words can one utter when hobbling over a ten foot space, hardly able to put weight on the left leg, and trying not to soil the wall-to-wall carpet with the right one?

Briing!

I grabbed up the receiver. “What?!” I growled in exasperation.

“Hey, it’s me. How are you doing?” I recognized the cheery voice of my friend.

“How am I doing?" I asked incredulously. “How am I doing?” I repeated. “You xxxxx!! I’m stuck out here in the middle of the bush, with a pit that scares the sh*t outta me, and I just stepped in a whopping load of it at the bottom of the stairs… and I’m spreading it all over the frigging carpet, and…”

“Whoa, whoa,” he exclaimed. “Did you just say you sh*t at the bottom of my stairs and now you’re dragging it all over my carpet?”

“What??? Not me, you idiot!” I was yelling now, then I sensed movement behind me. Turning I saw the pit staring at me, his ears pricked in high alert. He wasn’t sitting; he was standing on the couch. I lowered my voice. “It was your damned dog.” I said through gritted teeth, keeping a watchful eye on the pit. “And…”

He interrupted me. “My dog stepped in your sh*t and is dragging it over my carpet??” His voice was strangled. Was he laughing?

“Okay, look here,” I sputtered, but he cut in again.

“Guess you haven’t had your coffee yet. I’ll let you wake up. Call you back in an hour or so.” Then the dial tone. I stared at the receiver in my hand. He had to be kidding!

Another movement caught my attention. I turned to see the pit climbing down off the couch, and the labs getting up from their cushions, wagging their tails slowly. At the same time the smell overwhelmed me.

I glared at the three of them.

“Okay, which one of you guys did that?” I asked accusingly, pointing at the pile of pooh where my flip flop was still encased. The tails went down, and the labs ducked their heads, both pictures of abject guilt. Not so the pit. He stood there looking at me, tongue lolling from his mouth, his attitude not in the least contrite. A 'don’t give a damn' stance if I’d ever seen one. Somehow I knew exactly who had left me the gift on the floor, but in my present state, I didn’t have the energy to press the matter.

“Okay, everybody out!” I limped towards the door. The labs hurried towards me, tails wagging again. The pit came running up behind us, then bullied his way past them to exit first. Once outside he turned, and I gasped as he lunged at Ben, the youngest lab, aiming for his face as Ben tried to follow. “Hey!” I yelled. The pit backed off and Ben, ignoring him, kept going. Beef was next, and was nearly out before the pit repeated the act on him too. Beef stopped abruptly, and his hind end caught the door, sending it flying back. I wasn’t holding it tightly, so the only thing that kept it from hitting my face was my big toe. The one on the sh**ty foot.

My scream of pain startled both dogs. The pit jerked his head up to look at me, and Beef quickly scurried the rest of the way out. I was feeling faint, but still managed enough strength to slam the door. The wham resounded loudly in the silent house. I leaned my face against the cold wood, waiting for the pain to abate. There was little time for that luxury. If I didn’t get rid of the stink in here I was going to gag. Walking the best I could, I crossed the room to throw open the windows. It was already cold ...I had forgotten to stoke the wood fire properly the night before… so more outside air wouldn’t make much of a difference, I reasoned. Okay, find paper towels, and a plastic bag. But first, wash the foot with the throbbing toe. Ugh!

I finished the cleaning, had coaxed another fire to life, and was finally sipping my first cup of coffee before I noticed that the pit was sitting at the patio door watching me. Had he been there the whole time? My mental state at the moment suggested to me that he was finding my misery highly amusing. I stared back at him.

“This is all your fault, you little Sh*t!” I could swear he smiled as he turned his back and trotted off the gallery. The phone began to ring.

(to be cont’d)

I hope your enjoying the story, but even more that you are enjoying your day. Each one is a gift, they say, and I agree. Sending you SMILES – I’ll catch yours if it comes my way.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec