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So, Gill hasn’t even boarded the plane for her return to Canada for holidays and the confusion has begun. It’s not her fault, per se, but she does figure into the debacle.

Allow me to provide background, dear readers. You will doubtless recall that her brother, my son, Crazy D, is of a somewhat haphazard nature. Within the context of his work, he is organized, prompt, professional. On his own time, he is a disaster and scheduling nightmare. If he makes plans with one or more of us, we assume things will go awry somehow. He will confuse the days of the week, the time, the location, or even forget entirely that he made a date. When he works, he often has ‘a fixer’. This person fixes whatever he has screwed up. Alas, in his private life, he’s on his own without a net — at least until recently when his girlfriend became his de facto ‘fixer of all things  Crazy D has broken’. Lucky girl…there’s a job I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

And so…Crazy D is currently somewhere in the wilds of Manitoba (or possibly Alberta –his geography isn’t the greatest) hunting for dinosaurs. Why? Because they’re there. Meanwhile, at home sits the new puppy. The pup and D’s girlfriend are bonding but missing him. And since Crazy D was to be the primary trainer, we can only guess how that’s working out. Even I, the worst ever dog trainer, understand that consistency is important. If the puppy decided he’s in a snit over Crazy D’s untimely departure, things could take an ominous turn.

It would seem that, upon D’s arrival back home, he and his girlfriend are leaving again. The puppy can’t go with them. Naturally, Crazy D, knowing that Gill is coming home at ABOUT that time, thinks that the perfect solution to his problem is to have Gill, jet lagged, cranky, lugging heavy bags, rush to his apartment to retrieve the dog so she can look after him for a few days. First problem is that D is vague as to dates. He knows the ‘general window’ of his departure and of Gill’s arrival. Last time I looked, planes tend to run on relatively tightly scheduled flights.

Second problem is that NOBODY wants Gill looking after a rambunctious puppy who’s been cooped up for perhaps hours when she’s just staggered off an international plane trip of several hours. Gill informed her brother that, since she wouldn’t even be in the country for the first two days he mentioned, dog-sitting might be problematical. Whereupon he emailed me to see if I’d like to have some puppy time. At the time of his email, I didn’t know that he had already asked Gill and that I was, by process of elimination, SECOND CHOICE! Never a smart move to make Grandma less than queen of the totem pole…Despite his fumble, I agreed to take the puppy — assuming that Crazy D had already factored transportation (by him)  into the equation. How wrong I was. That part of his plan somewhat escaped his notice. Then Gill informed me (from one of his abbreviated texts) that Crazy D’s car will be somewhere in Quebec at that point in time. Will D and his girlfriend be with said car? Nobody knows…So I am left thinking he’s going to leave the puppy, his beloved baby, at the side of the freeway with a sign, “Grandma’s or Bust!”

And so, at last notice, I’m guessing I will be required to drive to Toronto to pick up the puppy, somehow magic up a key to his apartment (or break in and crawl through a window — never a good look for someone of my age), lift the puppy’s humongous crate into my car and drive home, my back in spasms from the herculean effort dealing with the crate. But I do know that, beneath all the confusion and disorganization, Crazy D wants nothing more than for me to enjoy some puppy time with the newest family member. Really he does. Maybe. I think. I hope.

Please, Crazy D, if you’re reading this, would a little organization be too much to ask? With love, Mom.  Gill, you’re off the hook — THIS time.

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