Editor’s note: Mark Bradford is contributing occasional posts from his diary on traveling the country with his wife Wendy while they rent out their Mishawaka home for six months.
Day 46 of our 190 day sojourn
August 10, 2023 — Mishawaka
I feel sorry for Corky the Dog. But not that sorry. In fact, she should feel sorry for me.
While Wendy and I have been out sojourning, one of my favorite students ever and her almost-husband agreed to watch Corky the Dog for our first 45 days, a herculean task but one they are very good at since they have two other dogs. Corky the Dog fits right in. All good so far. I was to get Corky the Dog at 8 p.m. Life looked easy.
Well, the sequence of events went awry. Today was Wendy and my real re-entry day. And to say we had a few bumps would be fair. The challenge of fulfilling some family opportunities in our home town without being able to live in our own home (we rented it out for six months so we could take this adventure) put us in the odd position of visiting friends in our own home and then us leaving, not them. It was surrealistic to say the least, but it was not as difficult as I thought it might be. In fact, we could not ask for better renters.
Then my oldest brother came into town for a family thing and we decided to have dinner at a restaurant where the food is always good, the noise level is low, and the service is fast and efficient. I had allotted two hours for the food, figuring we would have an hour extra to sit and talk.
Well you can guess what happened. The moment we showed up, there were two tables of 12 each that arrived (24 total really loud folks) just before us and only one cook and only one waitress. Ninety minutes later, with no food in sight, I told them to cancel my order because I had to go get Corky the Dog.
Of course, the restaurant brought my food (Meatloaf with broccoli and mashed potatoes) out as in a carry-out container (without a fork). So, I drove across town eating cold, wet broccoli by the handful and then started on the fake mashed potatoes and gravy (again, with my hands). By the time I got to the meat loaf, I knew that this was my worst meal ever and the meat loaf confirmed it.
“Aha!” I thought. “I will make friends with Corky the Dog by letting her finish these horrible tasting meat loaf slices.”
Corky the Dog must have figured something was awry because when I showed up to pick her up, she pretended she did not know me (or like me) and ran and hid behind the guy’s leg. This went on for five minutes. I said “Corky, there is meat loaf in the car and it is yours!” She just stared at me as if she knew it was the worst meat loaf ever but when we attached her leash, she knew she had to come with me.
I loaded her in the back seat, where we had put a blanket to keep from getting dog hair all over and I showed her the still warm meat loaf. She promptly put both feet on it and proceeded to walk all over the back seat, spreading ketchup and bits of the meat loaf all over. It was a mess.
So, I got her inside the house that we are staying at and she started frothing at the mouth, which is what she does when she gets really nervous. I finally calmed her down and, as I write this, she is lying at my feet, most likely wishing she could go back to the dogsitter’s house.
I kind of wish I could, too.