5:57 a.m., another day dawns. Time to get up and repeat, once again, our morning ritual. What day is it anyway? The days have a way of melting together like snowflakes on a windshield. Today is just another day. I’ll get up, take the dog out, Bobby by my side, then return to begin making breakfast.
“What do you want for breakfast this morning, Bobby? Eggs and Toast?”
“Yes.”
I rattle around the kitchen, making four eggs, scrambled, and two pieces of buttered toast. Bobby observes, watching over my shoulder to make sure I’m doing it right. I pour a cup of juice with ice and put a napkin and utensils on the table, as I robotically repeat our daily procedures. Finally, Bobby’s breakfast is ready. He rushes into the dining area and sits at the
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Safety is always a concern. He is very observant and is quick to learn if something sparks his interest. Bobby sidles up to me making me feel dwarfed in his shadow. “Bus,” he says. “Yes, Bobby, the bus will be here in fifteen minutes.” Meanwhile, Baby, the ten pound Havanese, is in his kennel having a difficult time dealing with his confinement, even though it’s a temporary necessity. He whines and talks as best he can, trying to obtain my attention in hopes of being freed from an intolerable situation, as he sees it. Bobby has been pacing. He put on his headphone silencers and strapped on his small case that protects his Boogie Board (don’t leave home without it). His jacket is on, and he is ready for the bus, impatiently pacing from the front door to the kitchen and back again. I continue standing by the front door even though the storm door is locked; safety has to be foremost on my mind. Bobby could unlock the storm door and be outside in a heartbeat. The dead end subdivision is no comfort considering the flow of traffic on the street is like a runaway train on a downhill course. “Bus.” “The bus will be here in fourteen