A Tribute to Nicklaus - Myrna and Nicklaus are real. The story is fiction.
Myrna struggles to hold back her tears as she hurries past the dog park. It has been a month since her precious Standard Poodle, Nicklaus, passed at age 14, and she sadly remembers his jubilance when she took him for a walk in the park. He was friendly, so much so that other dogs seem to be excited when they arrived, and the owners welcomed her. She wasn't sure if they welcomed her or Nicklaus.
Avoiding walking past the park was difficult when she went to the Senior Center. She volunteered every Tuesday and Thursday, reading and spending time with some of the residents who had no family or friends to visit them. Now and then, she was allowed to bring Nicklaus, and his jubilant friendliness cheered everyone.
She could take another route, but it took her around an area better to ignore, and it was much too close to drive her car. No, walking was the best way, and sometimes she felt Nicklaus was excitingly walking next to her. Realistically she knew he wasn't, but it gave her comfort thinking about him, but sometimes it made her sad.
As she passes, trying not to look at the frisky pups enjoying their outing, she is startled to see an identical Standard Poodle, the image of Nicklaus sniffing the ground, looking for a spot to stop. She blinks, closes her eyes, shaking her head. When she opens her eyes and looks again, he and the nice-looking gentleman at the end of the leash are closer to her.
"Excuse me," the baritone voice says softly, "you are the owner of the Standard *Poodle you bring here to the park?"
"I beg your pardon," she mumbles.
"I used to see you walking him when I visited my mother at the Center and brought her here on walks when she was feeling up to it. She loved watching the dogs. It was one of the few times she was lucid and spoke normally."
Myrna nods. "Your mother is at the Senior Center?" She looks into his smiling hazel eyes, trying to remember if she had seen him at the Center. Surely she'd remember. He is probably near her age, mid-60s, and handsome. She definitely would remember him.
"Yes, my Mom, Alma Maynard. I only get to visit every other Wednesday. Your dogs name was Nickle something or other? She mentioned it when we came here and pointed at him."
"Yes, Nicklaus. He was my dog."
"Was?" He lays his hand on his dog's back, smoothing the white hair."
Myrna struggles to respond, looking at the identical image of Nicklaus as his owner scruffs the back to its head. "I had to put him down last week. He was old and very sick."
"I'm sorry." there is a look of sadness in his eyes.
Myrna feels a tug in her heart as he reaches out and touches her arm.
"Your Nicklaus is why I got this guy here. I saw how much pleasure my Mom had watching him, and I saw the joy you seemed to have walking him. It's been lonely in my house since my wife died two years ago. Nikie here brings companionship and brightens up my days. I named him Niki because that's what Mom said when she saw you with him." He hesitates then continues.
"I have a major problem though.I have to go out of town for work a couple times a month and my regular pet sitter is going off to college. I haven't found someone who can come in and take care of him."
Myrna smiles. She hesitates for a moment, then looking into his eyes, she says, "I am retired and have lots of time on my hands. I would be happy to help until you can find someone."
As they exchange numbers, he suggests they go to dinner on Friday night to discuss the details.
She reaches down, wraps her arms around Niki, and is sure Nicklaus would approve, not just of her dog sitting but getting to know his owner better.
M. Bradley McCauley - 2021
This aging easy blog covers the aging process from Alzehimers to Sexuality, and many in between.
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