By Patsy R. Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal
News from New Orleans: Grandpup Bonnie is going to doggie day care two days a week as her Mama, my daughter Margaret, seeks to introduce her to the Uptown Social Scene.
Actually, Bonnie and I put on a few extra pounds over the winter, and her Mama is attempting to introduce extra physical activity for a “low” activity pup. I haven’t quite figured out if Margaret has plans for me.
So, Bonnie is enrolled at Camp Bow Wow on Tchoupitoulas Street, a name none of us is likely to ever spell the same way.
Before Bonnie could be enrolled, Margaret took her for an “attitude evaluation,” which of course she passed with flying colors.
One interesting feature for Camp Bow Wow is that they have video hook-ups to the various indoor and outdoor play yards. And so, yes, Nana can watch Bonnie as she wanders around Indoor Play Yard 4.
Actually, it’s kind of like watching those crime shows where they get the convenience store’s videos to try to discover who the hold-up murderer is but they can only see the action in tiny, choppy clips – like the camera snaps only every five seconds or something.
Outside, they have some kind of play “bridge” they can hop up on and survey their domain.
Bonnie seems to be remotely interested in this activity, although as I watched her late one afternoon as her mother headed to pick her up, Bonnie looked like she was ready to go home and take a good, long nap.
Napping for Bonnie is a serious activity. She can spend an entire morning asleep, wake for midday, sleep all afternoon, eat supper, nap again and then be completely ready to hop up on the bed and sleep all night. Amazing. It reminds me of when my sister was a teenager.
Speaking of my sister, I am preparing to participate soon in my third annual SuperBand Pensacola Beach oldies music concert.
My dear brother-in-law is its leader and lets me sing backup with my sister and couple of other frustrated women. We pretend like we’re the Marvelettes or some such group, and we tell ourselves we really sound great.
I am especially outstanding with backup on “Under the Board Walk” and several doo-wop numbers.
The “girls,” as we are affectionately termed by a bunch of 60-plus-year men, took over last year on “Bad Moon A’risin’” when the solo guy couldn’t remember the tune, so we sing some mean John Fogerty, if you know what I mean.
Right now, my chief concern is what I will wear.
No doubt, it is not spring – completely – in the Florida Panhandle, and the 30 mph wind off the Gulf usually forces all our hairdos upward and backward, so that by the end of the 90-minute show, we resemble the original Bride of Frankenstein.
I’m contemplating some kind of head covering or hat, but it’s got to be attractive but not so big as to cause a gale to pick me up like The Flying Nun.
It’s not easy being in a band.
Bonnie would sleep through the whole thing.
Patsy R. Brumfield writes a Thursday column. Contact her at (662) 678-1596 or firstname.lastname@example.org.