Dad Always Said, "Pee Before We Leave"

 

Here in the Chicago area they have these stores called Menards. When I moved away in 1989 there weren't any. When I moved back in 2016 they were a big thing. A big thing in more than just them being everywhere. The actual stores are gigantic. They're about the size of two football fields side by side. Along the same lines as Home Depot and Lowes, but more. They sell hardware and lumber, also clothing, food, furniture, and probably a lot more only I've never been through the entire place. It's like trying to see the Louvre in one visit. Anyway, I went to Menards on Tuesday and it brought up two problems that I've always had.

When I walked in the place I was overwhelmed to the point of forgetting most of what I had wanted to buy. Just the massiveness of the place put me so in awe that it wiped my brain clean. Also, I had to pee really bad. I had peed before I left the house knowing the tendency of my bladder to fill rapidly. I don't know why, but when I get in the car every bit of liquid in my body starts racing to the bladder. So I peed at home, peed at Menards, and in a final insult from my bladder, I had to pee by the time I returned home. All this was within about an hour and fifteen minutes.

You might think this is all caused by old age. I don't think it is. I've always had problems remembering things, like shopping lists, people's names, what I did yesterday, and I've always had a weak bladder. In fact I got arrested one night in Henry County, Illinois for pulling over on a country road and peeing next to the car. I have no idea what the cop was doing parked in the bushes with his lights off only a few feet away.

Screw It

 

Just in case you don't know, a lag bolt is a large screw-in bolt used for putting two large pieces of wood together. I need three of them.

The other day I drove up to the big blue hardware store to buy some plants. Sadly, the heavy rains we had over the past few weeks drowned some of my flowers to the point of killing them. Because we're months into the growing season, I assumed the big box hardware stores would have some bargains. They didn't, their plants seemed a bit over priced. I put three large pots of flowers into my basket anyway because I'm lazy and didn't want to drive all over looking for cheaper stuff. Also, while I was there, I went over to the nut and bolt aisle for those three lag bolts I need. In a little drawer marked 3/8 x 6, I found a jumbled mess of different sized lag bolts along with a few regular bolts. After digging around I got the three I needed and headed for the checkout. One more fact you need to know before I go on. The bolts had no labels on them. No markings, no prices. I had looked for an employee to see if they had little bags and a pencil like real hardware stores have, but there wasn't one anywhere near nuts and bolts. I pushed my cart up to the row of checkout counters. They were all closed. Down at the end were four self-check counters with two of those closed. I know they were closed because the only employee near the checkout counters told me, "Thems closed." I then handed her the three unmarked lag bolts, told her what the price was on the little drawer, and asked her to ring them up for me. With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, she walked over to one of the regular old fashioned checkout counters and picked up the phone. Over the store loudspeakers I heard, "I need an associate from hardware at the checkout." Minutes later a slow moving old guy showed up. I was still standing over in the self-check area waiting as the old guy slowly walked back past me holding the three bolts. As he disappeared off into the bowels of the big blue hardware store you could hear my voice nearly as loud as the checkout lady's voice was over the loudspeakers. "Oh, hell no." as I walked out the door, leaving my cart with the plants behind.

Cricket Has Left the Building

 

Cricket

When Chandler passed away over a year ago, it seemed that Scout missed him. Maybe I was just projecting my feelings of sadness. I don't know because Scout doesn't speak English and can't tell me how she feels. To address this feeling I contacted the rescue that gave me Scout. I let the lady who runs the show around here know that I would be open to adopting another dog. Maybe a dog around Scout's age that she could bond with. Shell, the lady in charge, told me she would keep an eye out for the appropriate pup. I heard nothing for months and then I saw a post on the Cairn Terrier Rescue, Facebook page. Shell was looking for somebody to transport a dog from downtown Chicago, to St. Charles, Illinois. I volunteered. That was Bucky, the three legged dog that I had here for two months. Yes, after Bucky got his leg amputated at the vet in St. Charles, I volunteered to foster him. Sadly, the cancer that required the amputation finally took Bucky. A few weeks later I again volunteered to foster a dog. This was Cricket. One of the sweetest, most affectionate dogs I have ever come across. And she is smart. Within one week I had taught Cricket to 'come' and 'sit'. She also learned from Scout that when I say wait at a crosswalk, it is time to stop walking. The biggest problem with Cricket is that she needs your one hundred percent attention. She wants to be with you, on you, and to sleep with you. It's all about Cricket. This, unfortunately, seemed to bother Scout. She wasn't getting her share of my attention, and as much as I tried to make sure that happened, Cricket hogged the show. Again, I may have been projecting my feelings onto Scout.

On Sunday I took Cricket to her forever home out in Coal City, Illinois. I knew from the start that she was already adopted and that after two weeks she would be leaving. Still, it was difficult. I have taken in strays before and found homes for them, but these last two, Bucky and Cricket, really got to me. Watching Cricket sitting at the front door of her new home, staring out at me as I drove away was not easy. It was for the best. Best for her and best for the elderly couple who adopted her. It was also good for Scout. She now gets to sit on my lap again.

Scout the lap dog