Sentimental Saturday

To expect too much is to have a sentimental view of life, and this is a softness that ends in bitterness. Flannery O’Connor

Yes, I’ll admit it, I’m extremely sentimental. There are certain treasures that mean the world to me. These treasures aren’t made of gold or encrusted with diamonds. Quite the contrary. My lower left-hand dresser drawer is jammed with small boxes filled with homemade jewelry and gifts made by tiny pre-school hands. Mixed in with the ancient playbills and old letters, I have a pair of tiny white baby shoes worn by my husband at his christening and by both my sons at theirs. On top of my dresser, I have photos of my family and friends, little knickknacks, and a silver jewelry box. Inside the box, I keep all the lucky pennies that I find. Tucked behind the jewelry box, I display a small stuffed animal that my son brought back for me from his trip to South Africa a few years ago. “These are a few of my favorite thing.” (Oops! Show tunes.)

I like to see my treasures every day, that’s why they are strategically placed on my dresser. So, you can imagine my horror when I saw Buck traipsing through the family room with my beloved lion cub. A piercing scream stopped him in his tracks, and I rescued the toy before it was damaged. I tucked it safely behind my back so I could continue reading my email. When the phone rang and I jumped up to answer it, I totally forgot my treasure. In my state of distraction, I never noticed that Buck snuck the toy outside with him when he scratched at the door for the fiftieth time. Some ten minutes later, I peeked out the window to check on the dogs, only to see Buck gnawing on the furry toy. This time, a blood-curdling scream heard round the world ensued. Still in my night gown, I chased him around the yard with a broom, yelling bloody murder. By the time I saved my precious lion, it was slimy and covered with mud. I raced to the sink, cursing, sobbing, and scrubbing the beige fur.

To make a long story longer, I cried like a baby. I’m not sure why I was so upset. All I know is, every time I saw that stuffed animal, I thought of my son and how he carried that special gift in his backpack all the way from South Africa just for his mom. So, I cried, and I cried, and I cried. Buck is just a puppy and probably doesn’t know better, but for now, he’s really in the dog house. I can’t stand to look at him. My cherished lion cub is disheveled and will never be the same, and neither will I.