My sister Janet and her husband Don own a border collie named Maggie, or she owns them. After watching Maggie in action, I admit to some confusion as to who owns who. Mottled white shaggy coat, with a black face, Maggie fetches. It’s what she does. You can stay on her good side if you toss whatever she brings you stat. If not, Maggie will place squeaky stuffed dinosaurs and boomerangs closer to you, up your lap, and in your mouth if need be. As the ‘Borg’ used to say in ‘Star Trek’, you will be assimilated. Older brother Jim, wife Maria, and I have already been Borged by the relentless Maggie. We are all trained to throw squeeze toys from the moment we walk through the door at the dog’s whim. An annoyed “Maggie” will ring out from Janet and Don in hopes of rescuing a relative trapped within the drone training session. Maggie hunkers down for a moment with a quick “grrrrrowwwwf”, which is Maggonese for piss off. The drone training session usually starts again forty-five seconds later. There is one visitor immune to the border collie’s hypnotic eyes: sister Cheryl, who stays in the ‘Big House’ with Janet, Don, and ‘Mech’ Maggie. Sometimes known as the witch who escaped the house in ‘Over the Rainbow’, Cheryl freezes the dog’s blood with but a single glance. If she adds a finger shake to her withering gaze, Maggie drops down on her side and plays dead.
George the Alligator visits different lawns bordering his kingdom. He has even taken a siesta next to my sister’s screened in pool patio. Unknown to George, his kingship of
I journey aboard ‘Indiana Jones’ airline early tomorrow morning for the first leg of my flight into ‘Bogata’ Miami International, heading home.