"Are you sure you want to be out here on the patio, Grandpa? It's kinda cool this morning," Ann asked as she gently tucked the woolen blanket around her grandfather's legs and hips. "Do you want this comforter for your back?"
Grandpa nodded and leaned forward. Ann smoothed another small blanket around his back and shoulders.
Ann then took inventory of the small teak patio table next to her grandfather's chair. "Okay, you've got your reading glasses, your newspaper, and your mug of coffee. Do you need anything else?"
"I need an ashtray," Grandpa said as he carefully withdrew a fresh cigar from his sweater pocket.
"Grandpa, where did you get that? You know what Doctor Norris said about those things."
For someone who didn't drive and had no way of getting to the stores without help, Grandpa had an uncanny ability to smuggle all sorts of contraband into the house. Cigars, Twinkies, Oreo cookies, and other forbidden items seemed to appear from nowhere. Ann would ask where they came from and how they managed to sneak their way into the house. But the answer was always the same: "I had them," Grandpa would insist, as if claiming that he had brought the items with him some twelve years ago when he came to live with his granddaughter. Ann knew the conversation was futile and that Grandpa was going to provide no truthful explanation. But nevertheless, she felt obligated to ask.
"How in hell can I be expected to remember everything Doctor Norris says? That young kid talks so fast," Grandpa said as he joyously rolled the end of the unlit cigar around in mouth.
"You certainly do remember! He said you're not to have those things!" Ann countered, but to no avail.
"To hell with Doctor Norris then," Grandpa grumbled. "I'm ninety-two years old. I think I'm old enough to smoke. You don't think it's going to stunt my growth, do you?" Grandpa chuckled.
Ann scowled at him and went to get the ashtray. She always referred to Grandpa's cigar as "that thing", refusing to accord it even the slightest bit of legitimacy by calling it a cigar.
Grandpa called after Ann. "Also, would ya let Sissy out so she could come sit with me?"
"Sure Grandpa. Give me a second." Ann returned with the ashtray and Sissy. The dog immediately trotted over to Grandpa and nuzzled her wet nose into his hand.
Ann made one last attempt. "You know Grandpa, that dog is the only one who can stand to be around you when you smoke that thing," she said as she retreated back into the house.
"Just as well then," Grandpa whispered. "Really don't need anyone else pestering me."
Sissy came to live with Grandpa and the Wilsons almost ten years ago. She had started out as Ann's Beagle/Terrier/puppy thing, but soon adopted Grandpa. Over the years they had grown ancient together, Grandpa in people years and Sissy in dog years. Somehow they had kept each other going.
At age ninety-two, Grandpa still had pretty much full command of his faculties, except for those lapses of memory he manufactured to help him deal with issues like cigars and junk food. However, when they were alone, Grandpa would often spend hours talking to Sissy. And Sissy would sit quietly, completely enchanted with each of Grandpa's soft words and subtle gestures.
"Come over here, Baby Girl." Sissy shuffled her hindquarters over to sit near Grandpa's right hand. She looked up at him with worshiping brown eyes.
Finally, when Grandpa had the end of his cigar sufficiently lubricated, he lit it with a wooden kitchen match, also retrieved from his sweater. Sissy squeezed shut her eyes, shook her nose, and sneezed.
Grandpa laughed. "Such a big sneeze for such a little nose," Grandpa said as he wiped Sissy's nose with his calloused thumb."
Sometimes Grandpa would read the newspaper to Sissy. Not word-for-word, but offering the dog brief summaries of the news followed by Grandpa's own interpretation of world events.
"Denver Broncos really stink up the place without Elway," Grandpa informed the dog and Sissy cocked her head at the sound of "Elway". She liked the Elway sound.
"No wonder the world's a mess. That kid Bush is too damn young to know his ass from his elbow." For some reason Sissy didn't like Grandpa's political commentary as much as his sports recap. She reacted by laying down with her chin tucked between her outstretched front paws and simply stared up at him with her big brown eyes.
"It's all right Baby Girl," Grandpa said as he bent over in his chair to scratch Sissy's ear. "It don't mean nothin' to you, what that Bush kid does. The only thing I will tell you is his daddy seemed a whole lot smarter than he is."
But that particular December morning Grandpa had something much more important to talk over with Sissy.
"Baby Girl, you need to listen to me for a minute. I can't talk to Annie 'cause she's too young and she'll just get upset. But you and I, we've been around a long time, so I think you can understand what us old folks know."
Sissy looked up at Grandpa with sadder-than-usual brown eyes. She tilted her head almost imperceptibly.
"Don't be upset Baby Girl. There's nothing wrong. Only thing is lately I've been thinking about Ellen."
Sissy lifted her head. Something in the sound of "Ellen" had captured her attention.
"You didn't know Ellen. She died several years before you and I met up. Before we both came to live here. I was married to her for a very long time. I've been thinking about her quite a bit. We loved each other very much, but lately I'm kinda surprised she's come back to me as much as she does."
Sissy carefully placed her head back down between her paws and sighed. Grandpa bent over and scratched the back of the dog's neck. "Ya ain't interested, are ya Baby Girl?" Grandpa softly laughed. "I know. You never knew her. Why should you be interested?"
"Anyway, Ellen's been coming back to me when I go to bed, after I turn out the light and close my eyes. We've been talking. Not out loud. After you've been married as long as we have, you don't need to talk. Ya just kinda know what each other's thinking."
Sissy lifted her head and cocked it to one side. Grandpa looked down at her and smiled. "No. Not 'Elway'. I said 'Ellen'. You're not paying attention. You've got to listen better."
"Last night I told her that I'd be seeing her soon. Yes, I know, I know," Grandpa said as he patted the dog's head. "I ain't so much worried about Annie. She knows I'm going soon. Just not when. I hope she don't think I'm gonna live forever. And anyway she's got Jack and the kids. It's you I'm worried about. When I go, you won't know what's happened to me."
Grandpa lifted his head and took a long slow drag on his cigar. He didn't want Sissy to see the tears welling up in his eyes. Sissy raised her nose to catch the cigar smell.
"I'm worried 'bout what you're gonna think . . . like I got lost or something. And I'm worried 'bout what you're gonna do. You won't stop eating and get yourself sick, will ya? And you won't go wandering off looking for me. You just stay with Annie. You'll be all right after a while. They'll all be all right after a while."
Sissy sat up and looked at Grandpa with the most serious expression she could muster.
"No. Not now. There's nothing to worry about now. It'll be sometime after Christmas. Don't want to ruin Christmas for everybody." Grandpa stroked the dog's ear.
"Oh yeah, about Christmas, I'll be sure to tell them you don't want to wear those silly reindeer ears. They think you look cute or something. I know, I know. I'll tell them."
Grandpa went back to his newspaper. Sissy placed her chin carefully back down between her paws.
"Paper says the new highway's going through Elbert County."
Sissy looked up and cocked her head.
"No. Not 'Elway'. I said 'Elbert - Elbert County'." Grandpa laughed, his cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth.

Copyright ©2002 Bob Garber.  All Rights Reserved