blog entry

Fashion Faux

It’s 5 am, I’m half awake and extremely sleep deprived.  Maggie the 18 year old terror (I mean terrier) has to pee.  I roll out of bed and head for the front door. Clad only in my thin wispy nearly see-thru ratty old nightie.   I walk down the driveway and stand next to the car.  Maggie meanders in circles, most likely forgetting why we are standing in the early morning shadows. 

I move closer to the road to encourage Maggie of the task at hand.  I look up at the street lamp and study the yellow shafts of light surrounding my body.  My eyes were averted for a second, a nana second, a mini nana second and poof - Maggie is gone.  The street is empty.  OMG – she doesn’t have her collar on.  What if she wanders over to the busy main street? 

I switch to panic mode and race up and down the street.  Never before have I noticed how many street lamps light my neighborhood and how bright they really are.  I see a neighbors garage door wide open.  She wouldn’t go in a strange garage?  Would she?  I clap my hands like the toy monkey in the movie ‘Phantom of the Opera’. 

Her eyes and ears have lost the battle against age. I run down the street clapping my hands as my bare feet hit the cold pavement.   My panic rises to hysteria level.  I should have watched her better.  I know how she gets so confused and lost.  Several weeks ago she got lost in the hall closet and couldn’t find her way out.

I run up and down the street like a mad woman. I sneak toward the open garage door and clap louder.  I hope they are sound sleepers.  And out of nowhere trots Maggie.  I snatch her to my chest and run back to the house.  Out of the corner of my eye I see George.  George is the self-proclaimed Mayor of the cul-de-sac.  He just stands there and stares at me.  Nothing or no one escapes George’s watchful eyes.  My evening wear moves slightly with the morning breeze and my forward motion.

I can see the headlines and the article in the monthly newsletter.  Wild scantily clad barefoot woman runs through the neighborhood in the wee hours of the morning.  Lock your doors – pull down your shades – close your garage doors – hide your children.  She may even be a dog-napper.