MOLLY & MILTY - The Love Story Cont. .. Installment 5

“We’ve talked about this, Molly.” Fred closed his briefcase and looked at me. “You can’t have certain treats. The doctor said you’ve got colitis. That’s why you take pills.” 

 

That ended my treats request, but don’t think I just swallowed that white pill without some consultation. On about the third day of taking it, I lodged the pill on the side of my mouth and hurried out to show Gaby in the back yard. She’s still very active, but she’s gone through a lot of medical procedures, herself. Sometimes we call her the clinic warrior. Anyway, she confirmed that the white pill was definitely for colitis. Fortunately, Milton wasn’t around, or he would have probably barked her off the fence and I would have choked on the pill. When Fred finally got home, I’d have to be rushed to the clinic and maybe, hopefully, been brought back from the dead. Okay, I’m getting dramatic again.

 

You’d think with summer ending and the cold autumn winds, Milty would want to stay more inside. But not Milty. He pushed the backyard gate open and raced out to the street. “I followed him, Fred, just to see what kind of mischief he could get into. What really grabbed my attention was Milty chasing cars and even a truck down our beautiful street. He was barking and even his half ear was flapping.” I jumped up on the arm of Fred’s chair, just to emphasize my point. “How dumb is that, Mr. Duparlo? The dog is chasing a car. I’ve taken a zillion rides in your car. I still remember Miss Betty cautioning you, ‘Not so fast, honey. You’re going sixty.’ Sixty Fred! You tell me what dog can run sixty miles an hour? He may as well be chasing the wind. Don’t you see? Along with all that drooling, there’s something wrong in his head. Like I said before, he has no sense of fundamental physics.”

 

What do you think Fred did? Scold Milty? Take away one of his toys or make a no treat day? No, all Fred did was fix the gate and buy a better lock. 

 

Then, a few days before Thanksgiving, Chester told me something that just about turned my white socks gray. He saw Milty going into one of those big green boxes in back of the gas station the next street over. Milty was actually able to wiggle himself up the side of the box – Chester called it a dumpster – and come jumping out with a half a hot dog in his mouth. The bun was sticking out from the corner of his mouth, like a yellow cigar. It was probably the mustard that did it. Anyway, I couldn’t wait to tell Fred. I thought this was a definite game changer.

 

“He’s a disease spreader, Fred. Who knows what he’ll pull out of the dumpster next? And it’s on your head. A disease that could spread across the whole world.”

 

“You’re getting dramatic again, Molly.” Fred stuffed some papers into his brown, leather briefcase, stamped F.C. in gold. 

 

“You’re living with a Dumpster Diver.” My voice was shaking.

 

“Do you expect me to believe all this nonsense about a dumpster and a yellow cigar?” Fred zipped up the briefcase and opened the front door. “I’m off to work. Instead of finding everything wrong with Milty, get to know him better. He’s smarter than you think, and he’s got a great sense of humor.” He shut the door. I raced to the front window and watched his foam green car pull down the driveway. My stomach turned just as green as his sedan.

 

Get to know her better? The thought stuck in my mind like a rap beat. Why would I want to get to know a drooling hound? 

 

Fred stayed out most of Thanksgiving day, having a big dinner with Miss Betty’s sister, her husband and their family. He brought home some very tasty treats. Personally, I love sweet potatoes and gravy. 

 

But when I complained to Fred that Milty was eating food off the table, something I definitely was not allowed to do, even when Miss Betty was still living. You know what Fred said? “That’s wrong. I’m glad you brought my attention to it. I’m probably giving him too much kibble and not enough wet food. Thank you for noticing this, Molly.”

 

Thank you! Thank you? My hair stood straight up. I didn’t want a ‘thank you’. I wanted action! Discipline! Punishment! I talked the whole thing over with Chester and Gabriella. We had a meeting in the yard when Milty was sleeping on the sofa. At least, we didn’t have to meet on the fake Tudor roof. “Fred isn’t thinking like a normal person, probably because the death of his wife is still affecting him,” Gabriella said. She nodded, very wisely. The jeweled bells on her collar jingled. 

 

I hate to sound petty but those jeweled bells kept me from thinking about what she had just said.  It wasn’t Gabriella’s fault. She had a perfect right to jingle her bells. But the first time she did it, when she got the fancy collar for Christmas, I immediately wanted one, too, and I wasn’t embarrassed to tell Fred. After all, every girl needs a little bling.

 

“The jingling will freak out Milty,” he said.

 

“But you just bought him a beautiful leather collar decorated with big silver studs, like stars. I’ve been wearing the same collar for six years!”

 

“Who gave you that collar, Molly?”

 

He went right for my heart. I almost whimpered, “Miss Betty.”

 

“Do you really want to replace that collar given to you by the woman who loved you with a glitzy store-bought collar? Molly, that’s your last memento from her.” 

 

“No,” I whimpered again. He had me pinned emotionally against the wall. “It’s just such a cute collar.”

 

“I know,” Fred said, staring down at his newspaper. “But cute will never replace love.”