Journal of a Living Lady #183

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

The big neighborhood dog is barking ferociously. Oppie, our Chihuahua, with her distinctive feisty voice, is barking in response.

 

I am dressing in our half-bath, putting on my last earring when somebody says, "Hi, What' ya doing?"  I don't even look around.

 

All the birds from Spring are in a symphony. Is that a robin?

 

The demanding cat meows incessantly. An obliging voice asks, "Do you want out?"

 

The telephone rings, but I won't answer it.

 

Somebody yells for Bobby.  He doesn't live here anymore. He is grown and married.

 

Now, Buddy gets in on the act: "Nanny. Nanny!" 

 

I hear the metal latch click on the bi-fold doors of the extra bedroom. Moans come forth from the obviously dying man in that spare room, but I ignore them.

 

The ambulance siren gets louder and louder.

 

"Oh, please, Gracie, get a life!," I mutter under my breath.

 

No, I am not a mean, indifferent woman, just the owner of an African Gray parrot who can mimic all these sounds and more.

 

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nancyk@alltel.net

This column appears bi-weekly.

For October 24, 2002 - The Sentinel Newspaper