My Christmas Wish (unedited), published Nov/Dec 2019 Dauphin County Woman

It’s July.  Families embark on summer vacations at crowded beaches up and down the coast before the kids go back to school.  Picnics precede fireworks displays in celebration of Independence Day.  I’m delegated the cake server at a deployment party for National Guard troops leaving in September.  Bright eyes, witty smiles and camaraderie among military friends and families characterize the day.  Everyone throws down on barbecue sandwiches and corn on the cob.

Pets are welcome and one dog in particular, a loyal Pitbull named Onyx, paces nervously each time his military mom is out of sight.  I already feel sorry for him for when his mom deploys in two months.

It’s August.  Students endure first-day-of-school pictures taken by weepy mothers who swear their kids are growing up too fast.  Soccer fans have a pretty good idea what teams will be playing in the championship games.  Locals are eager to see how their school football teams will do.  Parents who will soon leave to serve their country in another part of the world won’t be in the bleachers at the end of soccer season and wouldn’t miss their child’s pre-season football scrimmage for anything.

The Nomads of the Pennsylvania Army National Guard 104^th Aviation Regiment wind down the deployment training they’ve been participating in for the last year.  As civilians counted down the last seconds of December in 2018 and rang in the new year, members of the 104^th kept their own countdown.

                It’s September.  The contrast of the good-timing friends at the deployment party in July and their faces now displaying telltale signs of sleepless nights and wearisome farewells remind me of a picture I once saw of Abraham Lincoln comparing his age progression before and after the Civil War.  Their eyes are puffy, noses red.  Throat muscles struggle to maintain composure.  Civilians savor every last second with their departing dads, moms, grandparents, sons, daughters, best friends.  The 104^th leave Fort Indiantown Gap for another homeland location fifteen hundred miles away to complete preparations for deployment in a faraway land.  We won’t see them for another year.

Army leadership and government dignitaries praise the soldiers at the deployment ceremony.  “They’re always ready any time of day or night.”  They recognize the selfless service and dedication to the mission that lies ahead.  They couldn’t be prouder that these men and women wear the Army uniform.  The chaplain offers the closing benediction prayer and our soldiers are given two more hours to spend with their loved ones gathered to see them off.

Streams of tears are shed by parents, spouses and friends on September 5^th at 1400 hours when the struggle of those remaining behind becomes heartachingly tangible.  Parents hold their sons and daughters in bearhugs as their soldier child stifles the urge to cry.  One soldier leans forward and grabs his knees, recovering from the impact of reality.

                It’s November.  Despite incessant political trash talk, voters engage their constitutional rights and cast ballots for their candidates without suicide bombers or other deadly attacks disrupting the election.  Late in the month, we celebrate Thanksgiving which our very first president, George Washington proclaimed “a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God.”  We’re free to exercise our faiths and celebrate the holiday without fear of violence or retaliation.

                The troops of the 104^th are mobilized overseas, hopefully getting more in their bellies than precooked, no-refrigeration-required MRE’s (meals-ready-to-eat).

It’s December.  Red and green decorations twinkle in store windows.  Children make their wish lists for Santa Claus.  I’m mindful of the sacrifice of both soldiers abroad and families left behind.  As the Grinch steals Christmas, an angel gets his wings, and Santa’s reindeer fly, I can still hear the heavy thump of the rotor blades unique to the Chinook helicopters that gave us one last flyover before carrying our soldiers and their unmatched bravery away on September 5th.

                I’ll be watching marathon episodes of Hallmark Christmas shows this season from my comfy couch with my comfy pillow and warm blanket while night-time temperatures drop to freezing over there.  I know that the freedom to have this kind of leisure is mine because of our men and women willing to serve halfway around the world, keeping us safe at home.  What I want for Christmas is their safety during their year-long journey.  I want them to be confident that they make a difference and not doubt for one second the importance of their service.  I want them to know they are appreciated and most of all, I wish for their safe return next summer.

Link to on-line version:  http://womannewspapers.com/stories/a-christmas-wish,2685

Diary of a Great Dane

In October of 2014, I had my first dog- and cat-sitting experience while friends were away.  I grew especially attached to a dog named Gunner.  This column was almost titled “Adventures of a Dog Sitter,” but Gunner and I became such good friends that I contemplated what life was like from his point of view.  Then the title became. . .

Diary of a Great Dane

            My name is Gunner, and I’m four years old.  I’m part Great Dane and part shiny Black Labrador Retriever, totally black, not flawed with any cutesy white spots on my chest or tail.

            I have a sister named Cynamin who is part German Shepherd and part Akita.  She’s pretty even though her face looks like a bat.  The cat lives with us too.  He’s a smart aleck, and he won’t eat his food unless it’s served to His Royal Highness in a freshly cleaned bowl every time.  His name is Lucky.

            I knew the Humans were going to leave us as I watched them take bundles and boxes to their car.  They do that a couple times a year.  It hurts my feelings a little, but they always have a sitter take care of us.  This time it was a new one.  I saw her through the window, and rambled to the door with my fiercest bark.  She wasn’t afraid and didn’t get excited.  Since the Humans hug other humans when they visit, I was sure this sitter would like it if I gave her a hug.  I jumped up to lick her face and she petted my head before she said, “Down.”  She obviously appreciated that I’m part lap dog.

            Me and Cynamin followed her to the kitchen.  I tried to sniff all the things she was putting in the refrigerator and cupboards because it’s what I do.  She didn’t give me any of it though, and it hurt my feelings a little.  I’m sure I heard the sound of treats in one of the boxes.

            She put the gate up at the top of the stairs.  The Humans must have already trained her, doggone it.  That means I can’t get to Lucky’s food bowl, can’t eat any chewy snacks out of his litter box, and can’t drink the blue water out of the big white bowl.

            I thought she would be all rules and no play, but she likes to go outside with us.  Sometimes when the Humans ask, “Wanna go outside?” it doesn’t mean they want to come out with us.  I clenched my rope toy between my teeth, showing off my one-inch cuspids, and she really thought I was going to give it to her!  She chased me around the yard for a while, but my swiftness was too much for her.  My toy.  Not sharing.

            I wrestled with Cynamin when she tried to steal the sitter’s attention.  She used her big nose to slide her head under the sitter’s arm and before I knew it, she was on the floor getting a belly rub!  It wasn’t fair, so I tackled her.  Twice.

            Cynamin is afraid of loud noises, and there was a thunderstorm today.  I know I’m not supposed to make fun of my sister, but her reaction to a thunder boomer is pawsitively hysterical!  She dashes into the living room, running too fast toward the steps, and when she turns before crashing into the wall with all the pictures hanging on it, that curly tail catches Grandma’s picture frame and BOOYAH!  Down comes the picture and Grandma is eating the Pergo flooring again!  It never gets old!

            No matter what humans say, when we fight like cats and dogs, it’s all Lucky’s fault.  He’s an agitator.  Like yesterday, I tried to enjoy a nap, ignoring how he was stalking me from his favorite perch on the arm of the couch.  Did he leave me alone?  No, he pounced on my collar and used my face for speed bag punches.  Then I chased him behind the couch, and Cynamin blocked the other end and we kept him trapped.  Stupid cat.

            We weren’t the only ones who trapped him.  The sitter found my brown blankie that I like to suck.  The slobber on it was at slurpylicious perfection.  She made a face and stuck out her tongue when she touched it, and I thought she was going to suck on it too.  But instead, she put it in a laundry basket.  When she went downstairs to the basement, she didn’t see Lucky follow her.  After she came up, she shut the door on him!  Priceless!  We heard him meowing, and we sat in the corner trying not to let the sitter hear us snickering.  He stayed there like a dork on the opposite side of the door until the sitter went back downstairs.

            I like cat food.  I know I’m not supposed to eat Lucky’s, but the can on the counter top this morning was too tempting.  It wasn’t opened yet, but that never matters, so I snuck it when the sitter wasn’t looking.  She heard me chewing on it later, and discovered my secret treasure.  When she approached me, I knew she wanted to take it away so I growled at her.  She backed off, but kept yelling words I didn’t understand:   metal, cut, mouth.   She was scheming to get me to give up my loot, but I refused.

            She tried to trick me and took Cynamin outside without me.  I couldn’t go because that would have meant leaving my ill gotten gains behind.  She fed Cynamin milk bones and pig ears right in front of me!  It hurt my feelings a little, but she wasn’t getting my cat food.  She tried to entice me with an already opened can of roasted chicken flavored cat food, but that was silly.  The fun is in chewing the can!  Chewing’s my favorite.

            Then she played dirty and broke out the Pup-Peroni’s!   Oh-my-gaaaawwwwddd!   I swallow them whole!  I don’t even chew them!  They are so yummy - I can’t stop to chew!  I surrendered and smothered her in pooch smooches even though she seized what was left of the cat food can.

            At night, I slept next to the sitter.  I liked the feel of her back against mine, but she woke up and nudged me, trying to make me move.  I didn’t want to, so I pretended I was still sleeping.  She pushed harder, but I wouldn’t let her pull the covers out from under me.   Her meager strength was no match for the fortitude of my 150-pound frame, but instead of giving up and going back to sleep against me, she moved to the other side of the bed.   It hurt my feelings a little, but once she fell asleep, I resumed my back-to-back sleep snuggle.  I hope she stays here for a long time.  I woof her.