my careless contagion

Puppies! Who doesn't love puppies? I saw a whole lot of puppies growing up. One year (was it Christmas?) my parents gave their three boys a young female German miniature schnauzer. What fun! But with a caveat. She was the gift that would keep on giving. She was an early lesson in entrepreneurialism. She was a breeding dog, and we were going to make a bit of money. Her name was Lucky Loo (sp) because she somehow escaped having her ears cropped, dew claws clipped, and tail docked. I recall sitting outside the room when the veterinarian did all of that to the puppies and their cries still haunt me. I can still see their tails piled up on the stainless steel table. "Puppy farms" have a bad reputation, and rightly so. Those dogs are not treated well. Dogs that come from homes where they have been held and loved on are more likely to be well-adjusted and happy. So homegrown puppies commanded a bit of a higher price. Our puppies ended up in pet shops in Denver. I thought th...

My grandmother fell yesterday and broke her hip. She had surgery to repair it. As far as I know, she'll be fine. She was doing exercises. For the record, my grandmother is 101. I hope this will be the end of her living alone. Maybe this will be the moment she realizes it's okay if she lives with some sort of assistance. It's hard to acquiesce when you've lived by yourself for so long. I'm nearly 41 and my grandmother has been retired as long as I can remember. But, she's always been busy. She volunteers a lot. She was a founding member of a church that's not even a quarter of a mile from where I live now. She won't be there this Sunday, though. It seems like most people have a sweet little thing of a grandmother. My grandmother is a tough little shit. I don't think I've seen her be soft too many times. She had a favorite among us brothers, and it wasn't me. I can remember her picking me up from school ...

My brothers and I dressed in our Sunday finest. Family get-togethers can be hard for me. As someone I once knew would say, "Going home reminds of why you left." And, for me, there were so many reasons. Why did I move more than 1,000 miles away from my parents and hours away from my brothers? Even though they were a day's drive away, I still didn't visit them unless I was rolling through on my way to some other place. Even then, I often wouldn't stop. At first glance, it would seem that I'm a bad son and brother. I can't really deny that, but there's more to the story. I have two brothers; the oldest is seven years older. The other is three and a half years older. I was never unaware of my status as the youngest, the smallest, the runt. It was constantly reinforced. When my brothers got BMX bikes, I got a retro girly-looking thing. With training wheels. Hot Liner. All the kids wanted one, right? Perpetually tagging along and r...