Lab Love

This past weekend, as I was relaxing with my steamy cappuccino and pouring over the Sunday newspaper ads, Jack, my rambunctious yellow lab, thrusted his wet nose into my leg begging me to get up from my comfy chair to play ball with him. Normally, I don’t hesitate at the opportunity to run around the house and burn a few extra calories; however on this particular Sunday morning, I didn’t want to break the unbelievable air of silence and inner peace I was feeling inside. But, knowing I didn’t want to disappoint my crazy mutt, I slowly let the caffeine take over and felt my energy level increase as Jack sat patiently, watching me, puzzled. I managed to muster up enough energy to swipe the soggy, red, tennis ball from his mouth. I made the decision that the newspaper could wait.

As I got up from the kitchen chair, I quietly hunched over and sashayed in stealth mode, in my socks and jammies, to creep behind the couch and out of Jack’s site. This always marks the beginning of our little ritual. I pretend that I can’t see Jack and he pounces around the corner of the couch, then I let out a surprised, loud howl that seems to satisfy him in his own doggy way.

My husband, who is now parked on the family room sofa, rolls his eyes as to imply, ‘here we go again’. This quiet sarcasm of his does not phase Jack or I as we continue to circle the room in our warrior dance; Jack strategizing how he will sequester his red, round, squeaky ball and me plotting to outsmart the dog. Just then, I lift my hand far back behind my head, holding Jack’s red ball in position, like a sling shot waiting to shoot. Jack is now in a bent stance, his right paw pointing towards the hallway where I usually throw his ball so that he can get a head start, as if he’s stealing a base. Within seconds, I propel the soggy ball which zooms across the room, barely avoiding a tall vase on its travels through the house. Jack takes off like lightening speed. I could almost see his face drawn back as if he was in a wind tunnel. As he leapt for the ball, I positioned myself in defensive mode as I readied myself for my ritual workout.

Jack ran furiously around the coffee table holding the ball in his mouth, like he was an overworked farmer trying to churn his own butter. Meanwhile, I’m jetting from side to side not quite letting him make his full turn as I deeply lunge, with each back and forth motion, to work my upper thighs, while pretending to go after the ball. This really is a great form of exercise. My husband, as if he knows what will be asked of him next, places his leg on the coffee table to form a bridge in Jack’s path so that with each passing from side to side, Jack has to leap over his leg like a horse jumping barriers. We continue this dance for about 5 minutes as Jack’s leaps turn to crawls under my husband’s leg to avoid yet another jump over the barrier.

Jack’s slobbery tongue is now hanging from his jaw as he’s panting of pure exhaustion. I look at him feeling exhilarated and satisfied and still full of energy. He gives me a tired puppy dog look and plops onto the cool, wood kitchen floor, panting heavily as he extends his arms and legs, preparing for his nice, cat nap. I manage to find my camera and snap my victory picture of him just before he dozes. As I’m reviewing the photo, I hear a small snoring coming from below me. Jack is now sound asleep, the ball tucked in with him and his leg twitching while in his dream state. A peculiar smile rolls across his sleepy face and then I knew he must have me beat.

I walked quietly back over to the kitchen table where my newspaper was waiting and the coffee was still steaming and sat back to finish where I left off.

Waves of Laughter

"The human race has only one really effective weapon, and that's laughter. The moment it arises, all our hardnesses yield, all our irritations and resentments slip away, and a sunny spirit takes their place." Mark Twain

Yes, laughter is a wonderful cure, but what about when it truly comes at the wrong time? As I silently sat in the pew during Saturday evening mass with my two daughters and my Mom, whom was visiting from out of town, I glanced around the Church and noticed the serene, but packed pews surrounding me. I was happily surprised that the Saturday Vigil had drawn such a crowd that evening. Was it a religious holiday that I had forgotten about? I scanned my memory bank, but could not recall a holiday on Saturday, November 8th. So, I let it go, as a smile draped across my face with the contentment knowing that God just happened to have a great turnout that evening.

As Church began and the priest motioned to everyone to greet each other, my littlest threw her body into me, buried her face in my sweater and said, “I love you Mommy”. Life just couldn’t be any better. It was a wonderfully tranquil moment. We sat down and listened to the opening prayer. Within what seemed like seconds, we were back up again in full standing position. This is very common if you haven’t been to a Catholic mass…you’re up, you’re down, you’re kneeling. You really get a dual workout with each attendance, one for the soul and one for the body. As I intently listened to the priest I noticed that he started walking to the far right side of the church. He grasped what looked to be a small broom in his hand. It was probably the length of a ruler, only it was much bulkier. The bundled bristles appeared to be straw, though I soon found out, whatever it was; it was much more absorbent than it looked.

As the priest dipped the mini broom in the bowl of holy water I thought to myself excitedly, we’re reliving our baptism. I always cherish these types of events at Church, such as the blessing of the throats or Ash Wednesday. It’s like a bonus gift at mass knowing you get that extra little blessing for the week.

The music was blaring and a cantor was singing at the front of the Church with a beautiful, angelic, voice that made the priest’s every move appear to be in slow motion. As he removed the mini broom from the holy water bowl and began to flick the tiny little drops of baptismal blessings over the crowd at the far right side of the church, my heart stopped in terror. As if time had stopped, I witnessed a slow moving wave extend over the whole pew area. Quickly glancing at the crowd, who was still smiling and singing, it was apparent that they didn’t see the terror that was quickly approaching them. As if in disbelief, the stunned crowd stood motionless, dripping with water, jaws wide open. The priest, completely unaware of the reaction he was drawing, was already on his way to the main pew area, where we just happened to be sitting, helpless. As he drew his broom, which looked like a gun in a western movie, I tightened my closed eyes and braced for aqua impact. Each second seemed like an eternity as I awaited the wave of my baptismal dunk and moved to protect my littlest from the blow. Then it happened, impact. As I opened my eyes, I felt water dripping from my hair, my sweater and my face. I turned to assess my fellow pew mates. The woman in front of me was swooshing waves of water off her leather jacket. The elder couple stationed at the far right end of the pew, were looking in disbelief at their seat, which was completely sprayed with water. Surveying the area, it looked like a small tsunami had hit. Then, I felt a stirring inside. As I caught eye contact with the elder lady, the laughter started as we looked at each other and began to giggle. Surely, it would subside, I thought to myself as the singing continued and I could hear small gasps from the people behind us as the priest continued circling the church, which made me laugh even harder. I couldn’t stop the uncontrollable hysterics. I truly felt like I was in some dream, like the kind you have when you’re giving a speech, standing in front of a crowd without any clothes.

At this point the priest was finishing his round and headed toward the far left side of the Church. These unfortunate souls had witnessed the entire drama unfold and were already bracing for impact. My eyes settled on a tall man whose expressions truly captured the moment. He winced as his head drew back over his right shoulder. His elbow slightly came up as if to block his face from the collision. Then, just like a recurring nightmare, the clear wave traveled across the bunch, not one but two waves. The priest must have thought that particular area needed a little extra blessing. My laughter continued almost nervously as I witnessed more people laughing, strangely enough it looked like they couldn’t decide if they should laugh or cry. I saw men wiping their brows and women shaking their heads to rattle off the beads of water. At this point, I mustered up everything I had inside me to control my laughter. It was though it felt like I was trying to swallow an elephant and I tried to contain myself so as not to draw a stare. I settled back into my damp seat as the priest walked up to the alter and continued with mass. I sat content once again, and smiled, knowing how happy I was to be part of this extraordinary extended family.