Mr. Trawick's Success

I can’t help it; that’s the way I’ve always been and the way I’ll be until my last breath.

At least, that’s my plan.

“Hey, Ralph, good morning! I’m here for my weekly abuse at your quite capable hands. I want you to get me all fit and muscular to impress my darling at home.”

“Come on in, Mr. Trawick. You’re looking especially wimpy today. I’ll bet you didn’t do your homework.”

Continuing our weekly banter, I informed my trainer, “Yes, I did my body weight rows with my TRX. Yes, I did three sets of ten every day. And I did my incline pushups and my lunges from the house to the gate every day. I told you I’d do my homework.

“Now, what have you got for me to do this week? Let’s get busy!”

With that, Ralph put me through my paces for the next hour.

“Thanks, Ralph! After all that fun, I’m dragging my sore self over to the sidewalk café. Don’t bother to tell me; I know it’s not the best place for post-workout nutrition, but I’m still going. Thanks again and take care!”

At the café, I sat at my favorite table in the corner for maximum people watching. “Good morning, my friend! How’s your day with all your lovely guests gone so far? That’s great! Yes, I’d love to have my croissant with extra butter and my cup of black Lewak coffee. Yes, I just finished at the gym. Yes, I know this is not the best meal for optimal muscle rejuvenation. In truth, I don’t care. I enjoy it and it’s the last bad habit I’m going to surrender to that fickle god Fitness.”

While I waited for my treat, I watched the other patrons and smiled at how impressed my darling would be to hear about my workout. Even in my daydreams, I know she pretended to be impressed just to please me, but I don’t mind. I’ll take any encouragement.

Of course, I won’t mention that I use my second cup of coffee, this time the house blend, to wash down my aspirin.

“Well, thank you, my friend! As usual, it was all delicious and hit the spot perfectly. I’ll see you next Wednesday,” I told him as I headed off to visit my good friend over at Holy Hope.

“Hey, Tony, you in there? Oh, there you are. Good to see you! Anything new since last week?

“She did, huh? Moved into that unit over there? Well, how do you like that? It’s been, what, thirty years since we all saw each other? Really? Fifty years? Holy crap! I had no idea it had been that long!

“I’ll go see her next week when I come back to visit you. It will give her a little time to get settled in. So, tell me, did you hear about how our old high school avoided demolition? Yeah, it’s true. It was something about the front facade being an artistic architectural treasure. I know; I agree. I remember those stairs and everyone sitting out there watching the world go by. It wasn’t anything special to us, but it apparently is to someone nowadays.

“Yes, she’s fine. She seems a bit harried lately, but she’s as sweet as ever. She and her little dog are both good.

“Well, my friend, I better get on home. Is there anything you’d like me to bring next week when I come by? No? Okay, well, I’ll see you next Wednesday.”

And off to home I went.

Just over an hour later, when I pulled up to the house, our little dog was bouncing at the glass door like a crazed jack-in-the-box. Sometimes I think that little dog is going to bounce herself apart. When I got inside the door, I started that insipid baby talk small pets and babies elicit from adults.

“You ready to go potty? Let’s go, let’s go!” With that, she shot out to the little fenced-in run to do her duty.

“Okay, Little One, let’s get your leash and go for our walk.” Linda trained her well. That little rascal ran back in the open door and sat below the hook with her leash smiling at me until I got there. She sat more or less still while I snapped the leash to her collar and then we were off!

Our yard is big enough to accommodate a quarter-mile footpath that meanders through mesquites and open areas where we can jog without fear of tree roots popping out and tripping us.

Four laps later, we headed in for water. Back in the kitchen, leashless, she lapped up water at a pace that makes me wonder if her little tongue is going to spin off.

I hollered out, “Honey, we’re back from our gallop around the yard. The little dog did real good for the first two laps, then, she became quite the laggard. We still had good laps.”

I try to live right, but I don’t know what that means.

After some light reading and my nap, I baby-talked, “Little Dog, you want to eat? You want supper? Me, too, Little Buddy. What about the kitties? Should we feed them, too?” All this in that aggravating tone an adult wouldn’t be caught using with another adult.

Of course, I fed them all.

“Okay, everybody, let’s eat.” I opened the cans and spooned the contents into their bowls. I topped off their dry food bowls. After that, I opened my can of clam chowder.

“Hey, Honey, I’m fixing myself some clam chowder,” I hollered out. “Do you want some or do you want something else?

“Okay, I’ll let you go ahead and fix something when you’re ready. If you want anything or help with that, please let me know and I’ll get it done.” With that, I dumped my can of soup into a pan and warmed it for about three minutes. That, a dozen crackers and my usual cup of cabernet made my meal.

“Yes, Dear, I made sure it was heated all the way through. And, yes, I put it into a bowl; I’m not eating it out of the pan, I promise,” I smiled to my sweetheart even though I knew she couldn’t see me from the other room.

“Okay,” I continued. “Let’s watch a show after supper. Oh, I don’t care. You pick something out tonight. What would you like?

“Okay, I’ll get it out of the cabinet. Would you like some popcorn? How about some booze? Just a little one? Okay, I’ll get it for you. Popcorn?

“Nix on the popcorn. Got it.”

A couple of minutes later, I presented her drink in the living room. “Here you go, Sweetie. One-third pre-mixed margarita with two-thirds freshly fizzed soda water on the rocks just the way you like it. No, I drank my cabernet in the kitchen as I wolfed down my soup; I don’t want any more. I want to be totally aware of being with you, my special darling.”

If no solution will be implemented, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

After about two hours, I paused the DVD player and said, “Honey, I’m sorry. I can’t keep my eyes open. Watching you drink your drink made me sleepy,” I teased.

“I’ll go ahead and take our little pup out so she can do her duty. That way you won’t have to do it later when you get ready for bed. I’ll put the cats away in their room when Little Dog and I get back. If you’d like, I’ll restart the movie.”

I pushed the Play button at her assent and headed to the side door. “Little Dog, let’s get your leash so the lions and tigers won’t eat you. You know how they are after dark.” At that, she ran over and sat in front of her leash. I snapped it on, grabbed my flashlight and out we went. She quickly did her duty and tugged me back to the door. She still likes to be with Mom best.

I unleashed her and hung the leash back up on its hook as she scampered off to the living room to help Mom watch the show. I gathered up the cats one by one and carried them to their room and locked them up for the night.

I do that because I’m afraid if I get up and go outside during the night one of the little rascals might follow me out and I’d never know it until breakfast. That happened once with dire consequences, and it broke my heart.

“Well, Sweet, the cats are put away and I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ll come out and say good-night before I lay down.” With that, I headed off to our bedroom to get changed for bed and do the usual pre-sleep stuff people do. When I finished, I went back to the living room to tell my life’s love and her little dog good-night. After my nighttime smooch, I headed for bed to meet my good friend Morpheus.

The next thing I knew, the bane of every morning awakened me: stupid alarm. As quickly as possible, I shut it off so as not to awaken her. Mr. Stealth himself, I slithered out of bed so as not to disturb her.

Today is my timed track day; eight laps in under thirty minutes. I know I’d do better if I ran, but I pretty much ruined both knees doing all those things in youth you’re warned will mess you up if you do them. Who knew back then I’d need these knees so damned long?

I rushed through my post-wake-up, pre-walk processes so I can get this out of the way and have my homemade eggs Benedict. I like that breakfast even more than I enjoy my buttered croissant and Lewak coffee. And, yes, I know it’s no better for my muscle rejuvenation.

As I stepped out the door, “Good morning, World! You ready for me? Brother Raven, how are you doing way up there? How far can you see? All the way to there? Wow, that’s a ways! Anything interesting going on over there? No? Well, thanks for the info and enjoy your day!”

With a final wave to my corvid buddy, I speed-walked off on my jaunt.

Four laps into my jaunt, out of an abundance of exuberance, I dropped and did four burpees. I know, I know, super athlete-in-the-making, that’s me!

After that outburst of exuberance, I hobbled off to finish my last four laps. It was all fine and I met my thirty-minute target with a full forty-five seconds to spare.

“Hey, Sweetie, good morning! Wake up! I’m fixing eggs Benedict with turkey bacon. Would you like some? Are you sure? Are you sure you’d prefer nasty old cold cereal over my world-class eggs Benedict? You know my E.B. is great and I’d make yours special. Of course I would; I’d put my finger in your hollandaise up to the second knuckle. Oh, you’re right; it’d probably make it too sweet.

“Anyway, Sweetheart, rise and shine. I have exciting news to share. I finished my track work forty-five seconds before my targeted thirty minutes. And that includes doing four burpees! Yep, it’s true. I knew you’d be impressed.

“Well, I’m off to the kitchen. Don’t forget to get up, you silly. I’ll put on water for your tea.”

With that, I toddled off to the kitchen giving her some peace to go through her waking-up process.

I got her water boiling and the lemon squeezed for my hollandaise. My coffee maker was well on its way to helping me satisfy my caffeine craving.

“Wow! What’s that?” As I ran to the bedroom, I hollered, “Hey, Sweetie, are you okay? What was that whoosh? Did you hear that? Hey!”

I got to the bedroom, no Sweetheart. Banging on our bathroom door adjacent to our bedroom, I yelled, “Hey, are you okay in there? Did you hear that? Hey!”

No answer. Knocking on the door again, I said, “Hey, Honey, I’m coming in.” Still no answer.

I opened the door. No darling within; no little dog.

Where? What happened? Did aliens abduct her and our little dog? Was she sucked up in some weird fundamentalist rapture?

Half panicked, I ran back through the house checking all the rooms and turning off the fires in the kitchen. No sweetie or little dog anywhere.

I ran outside, yelling, “Hey, are you out here?” at the top of my lungs. “Hey!”

I ran the footpath from the house backwards to the other end of it. No family. She wasn’t anywhere on the footpath or in the yard. I stood back so I could see all the roof of the house; not there. Checked in, around and on the barn; not there. Aha! That’s it, the guest house. I galloped off to the guest house. Nope, not in there!

Where could she be?

Wait a minute! Since that whooshing sound, I hadn’t heard anything. Did I go deaf and I just can’t hear her?

“Hey,” I shouted again, paying attention to my voice. Yep, I heard that. Not deaf. But, no birds, no wind, no noise at all except for what I generated.

What in the world?

“Good morning, Mrs. Trawick. It’s good to see you. How are you doing today?”

“Good morning. I’m doing as well as can be expected, I guess. How is he this morning?”

“The truth is, we’re talking minutes now. Maybe an hour, but I doubt it will be that long,” the hospice nurse explained.

She continued, “In the twenty-plus years I have done this work, I must tell you I’ve never been around someone who loves his wife more than Mr. Trawick loves you. For the last several hours all he has done was talk to you or about you or plan things for you.

Oh, just before you came in, he was kind of agitated and, in his mind, was looking for you to tell you about a big wind, a whooshing noise. It reminded me about how in the Old Testament the prophet Elijah was taken to Heaven in a big wind. I wonder.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Trawick. I’m going to miss him, too.”

And then he died.