Mike gives me an update this afternoon. He spent the day at his mother's bedside. Exactly the reason he made the trip. Janet is tired. And who wouldn't be? She made it through a round of dialysis today, as Mike observed. He washed her hair and combed it, urged her to eat some lunch, and sat with her. The entire day.
Okay, I know I am biased, but that, folks, is a good, good man.
Have I ever told you the story when I knew I was totally in love with Michael? We were on a pack trip. It was the first day and Lucy, his loyal red heeler, chased squirrels the entire way in to our first night's camp. That night she had a stroke and we ended up putting her down the next day (which is why I will do anything veterinarian Ken Griggs ever asks of me - or his wife, Cyndie, for that matter).
Lucy lay there next to the grave site Mike began to dig. She looked so peaceful. I stroked her fur as he began digging. Tears rolled down both of our cheeks. Lucy was a good, good dog.
He dug and he dug. We were in grizzly country. The hole got deeper and deeper. I asked him how deep he was going to go (might have said something about China....) and he assured me it was important to get deep enough that the coyotes and bears couldn't get her. That was the moment. That was the moment I knew this was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.
The sun slipped over the horizon. We laid Lucy in her deep, deep grave, said goodbye and covered her with rocks and earth. Goodbye Old Girl. You were a good, good dog.
With tear stained cheeks and reddened eyes, we walked back to our group, hand in hand, and joined them for a dinner of fried chicken.
And now he sits by his mother's side with that kind of love and care. You are a good man, Michael Earl Trumbower. And I love you deeply. I am glad you can spend time with your mother. Please let her know from me - she did an excellent job!!
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