By Patsy R. Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal
I hear Etta James singing her famous torch song, “At Last” – Grandpup Bonnie is prissing her stuff around Uptown NOLA as an official Crescent City critter.
She is reunited with her “mama,” my daughter Margaret, and Margaret’s beau in a precious shotgun duplex on Coliseum Street.
As many of you recall, Bonnie joined me in a temporary situation in May 2011 when Margaret moved back to Texas to do engineering work. I thought, well, this is only for a bit.
My custody of Miss B ended last Friday.
Other than some really cold night walks, Bonnie and I have had pretty much a gay old time. As a “low activity” Cavalier King Charles spaniel, she is the ideal companion for anyone who disdains pets requiring constant activity.
Let’s just say I will never quite figure out how Bonnie can nap nearly all day until bed time, and then easily slip into a solid eight hours of slumber.
Being a working Nana, though, hasn’t been easy since I often needed to retrieve the pup from doggie day care by 6 p.m.
My friendships have been tested – several close friends and neighbors have helped me fetch the dog when I realized I was detained in a trial or an out-of-town event. Thank you, all who came to my and Bonnie’s rescue.
The doggie day care crew and docs were equally wonderful.
Bonnie, who knows how to work a room, managed to charm everybody with her sweet face and generally sweet disposition. Who can’t love a pretty, well-mannered little dog who acts like you’re the only person she’s been waiting for all day?
When I departed Coliseum Street, I did so hearing a few squeaky barks from inside the house. Later, Margaret told me that Miss B acted a little concerned for about five minutes, then noticed a vacant spot beside Margaret in her work chair, hopped up and promptly went to sleep.
Her beau was so pleased at Bonnie’s move-in that when he Skyped a couple of buddies on Sunday night, he held the dog in his lap while he talked to them. Bonnie was most interested in the online conversation for at least three minutes, although she better enjoyed the constant petting.
So, when I arrived home late Tuesday, it seemed odd not to have Bonnie with me, sitting there like a nut in her pet seat.
When I walked into the house and saw a couple of her toys on the floor, I felt like “the baby died.” But then, I remembered how happy she is with her original “mama” and how happy I will be just to take off and go whenever the spirit moves me.
She’ll be coming back for visits, just like all good grandpups should do.
My next-door neighbor, Tina, fairly wept at her departure.
“She’ll be back, Tina,” I assured her.
“I know,” Tina told me. “I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”
Twenty-two months must seem a shorter period when you’re younger than 63.
As I tried to get to sleep Tuesday night, it took a little longer than usual – no warm pup snuggling up to my side and no doggie “white noise” with her serious snoring.
It’s no time to dwell on her departure, though. The days surely will be getting warmer, and I think I hear my garden calling!
PATSY R. BRUMFIELD writes a Thursday column. Contact her at (662) 678-1596 or firstname.lastname@example.org.