Remembering Bonnie

Today is the first chilly day of the fall here in the city. Everyone is running around like doom is approaching. Yeah, yeah I know, “Winter is coming”. But after last year (my first winter in NYC), I’m not taking it that seriously. At one point we had a serious snowstorm forecast that the media hyped into some kind of “snowpocalypse”. The mayor, transportation officials and all the other relevant city officials shut down the city and told everybody to stay home. Most people did. So of course it only snowed a couple of inches. Makes me glad I’m not in the weather forecasting business. 

 

This morning, the temperature started out in the high forties. Since I have housing now and a nice warm winter coat, I was better able to appreciate the crisp morning air as I walked along. It reminded me of Bonnie, a dog I had as a child. 

 

I got Bonnie, a Scottish Terrier, when I was in second grade. She was a butterball with fur. I think she was about two years old. She finally had to be put down due to her failing health in my sophomore year of college. Momma used to call her my security blanket. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say she helped raise me. 

 

We kept her coat trimmed short but she still hated hot weather. The year we spent in Florida, I had to drag her outside. She wasn’t about to leave the air conditioning willingly. She was thrilled when we moved back up to a place that had a real winter. 

 

Every fall, the first day with a bite in the air, she’d come bouncing back into the house after a trip outside. She’d zoom around the place, bursting with energy. On snowy days, I had to make sure I was ready at the door with a towel in my hands. Or else I’d have to chase her around the house a few times before I could tackle her and dry her off. That’s what I remember best about her – the way she’d take so much joy in something so simple. It was a gift all of us could use. Taking joy in the little pleasures of the moment. 

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