Oscar's Interpretation Services open for business

We’ve only had Charlie a couple of months, so although he’s settled in quite well, we still have the occasional misunderstanding. Yesterday evening Charlie began barking at me. I’d just taken them out for their early evening business, so I wasn’t sure what was up, although Charlie was more interested in playing footsie with the neighbor’s cat than getting down to business. He normally only barks when he can’t get Oscar to play with him – but he barks at Oscar about it, not me. I asked him what he wanted – another walk? play?- and never seemed to hit on it. He finally gave up and ran off to get Oscar. They had a brief conference nose to nose then they came over and sat down in front of me. Charlie barked once. I started the list again and when I said "poo" Oscar wagged his tail. Charlie looked over at him and tried to wag the same way, looking at me like “Finally. Duh!” Back out we went again, and sure enough… How sweet that Oscar agreed to be interpreter and how smart Charlie was to ask. I’m going to have to stop calling him a natural blonde…

Lorene

My Aunt Lorene has been diagnosed with Alzheimers and her daughter is her primary caregiver. Recently, her daughter wanted to attend a family party, and I had the wonderful opportunity to stay with Lorene for the evening. Although she has always been one of my favorite aunts, I hadn't seen Lorene in quite a while and I was afraid she wouldn't remember me. I don't believe she did remember me at first, although I could tell she was trying. Later in the evening though, she looked me straight in the eye and said quite clearly: "I remember you. I do. I remember your laugh."

Lorene has been my favorite aunt since childhood because she invariably made me feel good about myself. She and Uncle Frank always treated me like I could be anyone and do anything I wanted. And that I should dream big. My parents tried to teach me the same things, but I grew up in a house filled with illness and my parents had literal hell and an hourly fight on their hands to keep my sister alive, let alone thriving, let alone keeping the household, myself and my brother running like a fine clock. And, honestly, sometimes you just have to hear things like "you're wonderful" from people other than your parents for it to finally reach you. I mean, you kinda figure that your parents HAVE to lie to you like that, right? Anyway, my Aunt Lorene and Uncle Frank were my parents' Greek chorus: repeating the message my parents tried to send us kids in between therapy and medications and mowing the lawn.

The fact that my aunt remembers, of all things, my laugh, humbles me. And says, I believe much more about the depths of wisdom in her heart than much else could.

Take that, Alzheimers.