The Lookout…

We are not talking about a thieves' den lookout here. I am also glad it wasn’t Maggie looking out for that iceberg near Titanic as she would have severely dropped the ball even worse. “Full speed ahead, Captain!” I saw the X5’s Xenon high-intensity discharge headlights as it pulled onto my street. The throaty sounding V-8 rumbled to a stop at my curbside. The car let loose a cheerful chirp as dad locked the car and headed to my front door with my medications in his hand. “Papa’s here!” I said loudly to Maggie who jumped off the bed, flew into the den, and got on the couch so she could confirm this sighting. Yelping with joy commenced when it was confirmed. Papa had arrived. My father seems to be coming later and later every night. Mom says he gets caught up in television shows. I never complain. I am just glad to see him.  We often watch about thirty minutes of bad television as we talk and then we feed and water Maggie.  Maggie gets fresh everything with my father pouring out her day old food she doesn’t eat to add fresh food to her bowl. I pour out the day old water and fill her ceramic dish with crystal clear chlorinated water from my kitchen sink. Maggie will often be standing at the door to my laundry room giving it her seal of approval.

Source: The 4th Avenue Blues - March 7, 2014 Category: Mental Illness Authors: Andrew Quixote Source Type: blogs