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Monsieur DuPree
“I will never forget you,” the old man said. A tear rolled down
his leathery cheek. “I’m getting old. I can’t take care of you
anymore.”
With his head tilted to one side, Monsieur DuPree watched his
master. “Woof woof! Woof woof!” He wagged his tail back and
forth, wondering, what’s he up to now?
“I can’t take care of myself anymore, let alone take you.”
The old man cleared his throat. He pulled a hankie from his
pocket and blew his nose with a mighty blast.
“Soon, I’ll move to an old age home and, I’m sorry to say,
you can’t come along. They don’t allow dogs there, you know.”
Bent over from age, the old man limped over to Monsieur DuPree
and stroked his head.
“Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll find a home. We’ll find a nice
new home for you.” And, as an afterthought he added, “Why,
with your good looks, we’ll have no trouble at all. Anyone
would be proud to own such a fine dog.”
Monsieur DuPree wagged his tail really hard and strutted up
and down the kitchen floor. “Woof, woof, woof, woof.” For
a moment, the familiar musky scent of the old man mingling
with the odor of greasy food gave the dog the feeling of
well being. But then, a sense of dread took hold again.
His tail hung between his legs and he stood very still.
“Come here.” With great difficulty, the old man knelt
down on the floor and lovingly pulled Monsieur Dupree
close to him. He tied a ribbon around his neck with a
huge red bow, and then he attached a note to it.
Monsieur DuPree wondered what it said.
“It says,” the old man read aloud, “Merry Christmas!”
My name is Monsieur DuPree. For breakfast, I like bacon
and eggs — even corn flakes will do. For dinner, I
prefer mashed potatoes and some meat. That’s all. I
eat just two meals a day. In return, I will be your
most loyal friend.”
“Woof woof! Woof woof!” Monsieur DuPree was confused
and his eyes begged, What’s going on?
The old man blew his nose into his hankie once more.
Then, hanging onto a chair, he pulled himself up from
the floor. Buttoning his overcoat, he reached for the
dog’s leash and softly said, “Come here my friend.”
He opened the door against a gust of cold air and
stepped outside, pulling the dog behind. Dusk was
beginning to fall. Monsieur DuPree pulled back. He
didn’t want to go.
“Don’t make this any harder for me. I promise you,
you’ll be much better off with someone else.” The
street was deserted. It began to snow. Leaning into
the wintry air, the old man and his dog pushed on.
The pavement, trees, and houses were soon covered
with a blanket of snow.
After a very long time, they came upon an old
Victorian house surrounded by tall trees, which were
swaying and humming in the wind. The old man stopped.
Monsieur DuPree stopped, too. Shivering in the cold,
they appraised the house. Glimmering lights adorned
every window, and the muffled sound of a Christmas
song was carried on the wind.
“This will be a nice home for you,” the old man said,
choking on his words. He bent down and unleashed his
dog, then opened the gate slowly, so that it wouldn’t
creak. “Go on now. Go up the steps and scratch on
the door.”
Monsieur DuPree looked from the house to his master
and back again to the house. He did not understand.
“Woof woof! Woof woof!”
“Go on.” The old man gave the dog a shove. “I have
no use for you anymore,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Get going now!”
Monsieur DuPree was hurt. He thought his master
didn’t love him anymore. He didn’t understand that,
indeed, the old man loved him very much, yet he could
no longer care for him. Slowly he straggled toward
the house and up the steps. He scratched with one
paw at the front door. “Woof woof! Woof woof!”
Looking back, he saw his master step behind a tree
just as someone from inside turned the front doorknob.
A little boy appeared, framed in the door by the light
coming from behind. When he saw Monsieur DuPree, he
threw both arms into the air and shouted with delight,
“Oh boy! Oh boy! Mom and Dad, come and see what Santa
brought!”
Through teary eyes, the old man watched from behind
the tree. He saw the mother read the note, and
tenderly pull the dog inside. Smiling, the old man
wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his cold, damp coat
as he disappeared into the night whispering, “Merry
Christmas, my friend.”
by Christa Holder Ocker
Wrinkles
By Bob Perks
Of all the challenges I faced these last few months. Of all the fears. Of all the sleepless nights I tossed endlessly. Of all the weeping.
Of all the things to think about during the six and one half hours I waited alone in the hospital today, I found joy in a single word.
Wrinkles.
There is a multi-billion dollar industry that exists because we don’t want to look old. There are millions of people who make a living selling and manufacturing such items. There are hundreds of products on the shelves and flashed across our television screens each and every day that play to our vanity.
They are all wrong.
You see, today I found joy in the thought that because of the Grace of God, because of the miracle of prayer, your prayers, because of science and medicine and the skill of surgeons, my wife, my love, my “Baby” will live to get “wrinkles.”
As her one surgeon said a few weeks ago, “Well, I’ll see you every six months. We will grow old together.”
Oh, to live to have wrinkles. My God, my God…I Love Wrinkles!”
Marianne had her surgery. She remained in recovery for two hours because of breathing complications, but at about 1:15 p.m. they wheeled her into her room and I saw her for the first time today.
We are free! It is the day of days to claim our new beginning.
We ran through the rain. We got wet. We needed washing.
Besides, when you get wet, you “Wrinkle!”
My dear friends, come grow old with us and wrinkle!
Love all ways and always,
Marianne and Bob
“I believe in You!”
Bob Perks
Bob@BobPerks.com
They Said It In The Fifties
Ah, the good old days. Here are some quotes from the 1950’s…….
I’ll tell you one thing, if things keep going the way they are it’s going to be impossible to buy a weeks groceries for $20.
Have you seen the new cars coming out next year? It won’t be long until $5,000 will only buy a used one.
If cigarettes keep going up in price, I’m going to quit. A quarter a pack is ridiculous.
Did you hear the post office is thinking about charging a dime just to mail a letter?
“The Government wants to get its hands on everything. Pretty soon it’s going to be impossible to run a family business or farm.”
If they raise the minimum wage to $1, nobody will be able to hire outside help at the store.
When I first started driving, who would have thought gas would someday cost 50 cents a gallon. Guess we’d be better off leaving the car in the garage.
Kids today are impossible. Those duck tail hair cuts make it impossible to stay groomed. Next thing you know, boys will be wearing their hair as long as the girls.
Their music drives me wild. This “Rock Around The Clock” thing is nothing but racket.
I’m afraid to send my kids to the movies any more. Ever since they let Clark Gable get by with saying “damn” in “Gone With The Wind,” it seems every movie has a “hell” or “damn” in it.
It won’t be long until couples are sleeping in the same bed in the movies. What is this world coming to?
Marilyn Monroe is now showing her bra and panties, so apparently there are no standards anymore.
Pretty soon you won’t be able to buy a good 10 cent cigar.
I read the other day where some scientist thinks it’s possible to put a man on the moon by the end of the of the century. They even have some fellows they call astronauts preparing for it down in Texas.
Did you see where some baseball player just signed a contract for $75,000 a year just to play ball? It wouldn’t surprise me if someday they’ll be making more than the president.
Do you suppose television will ever reach our part of the country?
I never thought I’d see the day all our kitchen appliances would be electric. Why, they are even making electric typewriters now.