"Just like mother made it. That's why father has been gone so long."
There was more interesting dinner conversation this evening at the nursing home. My mother Irene sits at a table with three other ladies, all of them fairly lucid. One of the topics tonight was dogs. This is a popular topic which I've heard on more than one occasion. We talk about what type of dog each of the ladies had at some point in their life and what great pets they were.
The conversation took a twist when one of the women mentioned: "Every time my grandchildren come for a visit, they ask if they can wash grandma's Chihuahua. That's what I call my thing down there."
Oh my. Those kids must really want to make sure they have a line or two in Grandma's will.
Well, since the residents only get a full shower a few times a week, I can see how the 'ol Chihuahua may need to get out for some fresh air. But at just what age do we go from having a kitty to having a little dog? And I thought reading glasses and bunions were going to be troublesome. Little did I know.