Tough day

Ollie

We are dog-sitting Ollie this weekend, a goldendoodle of Buddha-like calm, and it has brought back Julie's charming babytalk -- I guess somebody has to ask him who's a good boy. He made the scene at Mom's place yesterday and, after a harrowing ride in the elevator, was happy to accept treats from the old folks and was perfectly placid in the face of the many shocking states of frailty he witnessed. (I don't except myself.)

So that was a good visit. Today was a different story. I found Mom in the penalty box, anxious to get going to church. And yet, I'm not sure she knew where we were going. But she was clean and ready, and we started off, and immediately had to reverse course for a bathroom visit. It went badly, requiring an aide, Jo, who just said, "Wow," and spent about a half hour cleaning the bathroom and Mom and getting her dressed in fresh clothes.

We got to church halfway through and it wasn't very long before an unpleasant smell wafted my way. I whispered, "Are you OK? Do you need to go to the bathroom?" She said she was fine, and, well, I shouldn't have left it up to her. We made it through the service and went to the Bistro, another bad idea, and by the time we made it out of there we had left the evidence of our visit on the carpet in front of everybody, quite a bit of it. One of the most embarrassing moments of my life.

A staffer said they'd clean it up and I buzzed Mom back upstairs. We left another mess on the carpet in her room before we reached the relative safety of the bathroom tile. I went and confessed to Jo, the aide, and she said, "Again?" If tipping was allowed, I'd have given her a hundred bucks. She was calm, kind and made no complaint. Through it all, Mom seemed strangely unperturbed.

I went back to the Bistro to find a maintenance man shampooing the rug. I told him I was sorry about the mess, thanked him, and went home, feeling like crap.

Ollie in the penalty box

One more shot of Ollie, and why not?