Flowers in a vase

I ate my fruit salad but a blueberry fell on the floor and Peony darted from under the chair and ate it. For good measure I went over to Margo, who lay in her bed, and gave her a blueberry. But she didn’t want it and Peony grabbed it away from her.

“Peony, you little brown bitch,” I scolded. “Let your sister have some food.”

No wonder she looked like an overstuffed tootsie roll and Margo looked like an anorexic deer – albeit at four pounds and ten inches long, a deer in miniature. And a shy one, too. Even after all these years of visiting Mark and his two Chihuahuas, Margo almost always ran away from me. Everyone else, too.

I worried about Margo, especially now. Being alone in the house with Peony these past four weeks while Mark lay in the hospital, alone except for the dog sitter twice a day, had her shell-shocked. Peony seemed to be okay – and I’d found a home for her already – but not Margo. Who would take shy little Margo, who ran away from anyone who came near to her, and who’d never been properly housebroken?

“Come here, Margo, come to Jimmy!” I inched my way over to her and cooed in a happy falsetto. Thank goodness no one could hear me. I crouched down onto all fours. “Little baby sweet girl, that’s a good little Margotini!”

She darted out of her bed, ran into the living room. I chased after her slowly – and she stood under Mark’s silver tray table. I crawled over there. “Ah, little Margotini,” I cooed.

And then, ever so slowly, ever so gently, I reached under the table to grab her – but she was too fast. She darted away as I reached forward. And then the tray table fell over, knocking the vase of Mark’s funeral flowers onto the floor. Water and soil drenched the oriental rug.

Ah, well. Once I found homes for both Margo and Peony, I’d throw the oriental rug away – too many shit stains from these dogs.