(Our taxi driver told the following story to me on the way to the airport during our recent trip to NYC.)
We moved my mother into a senior citizen’s home two years ago. She just couldn’t look after herself any more. She was so forgetful. She no longer washed. People from social services came in daily, but things were just not right.
First, she slipped in the shower and spent the night lying nude in the bathtub. Then she locked herself out of her home when she brought out her dog for a late night pee and they slept in the toolshed. So, we children had to make the decision to put her in a home. It wasn’t easy.
The hardest part was her dog. We had to find a good home for it. My mother was very attached to it. After all, they’d spent twelve years together. The dog was just too lively. Really lively.
Fortunately, we found out about old couple that lived in the countryside who were willing to take the dog. It wouldn’t have been good to bring it to an animal shelter, or give it to a young person. No, all in all, it couldn’t have worked out better. We brought my mother went out to visit the dog in its new home. The house had a big garden.
Dogs need a garden to run around in. That dog wasn’t a quiet dog. No siree, it sure was lively. The fact is, it pushed me mother down the stairs by jumping between her legs when she was going down the stairs. She broke her thighbone. A year later, the dog pulled her along the garden pathway and she fell again. She was in the hospital a long time after that accident. The dog was just too lively.
Now, two years after she moved into the home, my mother says she is happy there. What more could one want? My mother is happy. Her dog is happy.
(Comment: the way the taxi driver told the tale it wasn’t so clear whether the dog was just a little bit crazy.)