Aunt Charlotte was staying with me for a weekend. One morning I saw her down at the end of the hall, walking back and forth from the bathroom to the bedroom, mumbling, “What did I do with them? They were here a minute ago...” Having suffered through plenty of my own senior moments, I figured I better help her find whatever she had misplaced.
“My teeth,” she explained, “I JUST had them here on the nightstand. I’m sure of it!”
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| Aunt Charlotte enjoyed Beans and Tuffy, my dachshunds |
As I turned to walk back into the bathroom to help her look, I spied my collie Emma, sitting in the living room chewing on something. Emma loved synthetics; no roll of duct tape was safe from her. Dog dishes and other plastics were fair game at my house, and any thing left carelessly near the edge of a countertop was gone in sixty seconds…or less.
There she was, happily munching on Aunt Charlotte’s teeth. I pried her mouth open and retrieved them, and luckily they weren’t destroyed, just gooey with dog slobber. I returned the dentures to their rightful owner, with the suggestion that she might want to wash them off before using them.
Another adventure with Aunt Charlotte
Aunt Charlotte accompanied me on a Sunday visit to Huntington Beach so we could go to my niece Kirra's birthday party. As we got off the freeway and headed through the concrete jungle to my brother’s home, I saw a guy jogging with his German Wirehaired Pointer. I used to see lots of hunting breeds in Seattle, but it was unusual to see any sporting dog other than a Lab or Golden retriever in the city.
“Wow, look Charlotte, it’s a German Wirehaired Pointer!”
“I was looking at the guy,’ she replied.
I need to get a life.
© 2010 Terry Albert. All Rights Reserved.
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