Today, I took Vicki to visit Ky's old man. Now wait, I don't mean "old man" but I mean some old dude who used to employ Ky as a personal care assistant (or something which usually involved the dentist, buying old tomatoes, and driving). So, I mean "old man" but with more teeth.
Walter was once the librarian at our local University. That was before my time. By the time anyone I know arrived at the school, Walter was the old man who shelved books and farted continually.
Walter is now at a care home in the city. He is a single old man with no family and few friends. So, when I get a chance (and or am guilted into it by Ky) I go to see him. Today, I took Vicki with me.
Vicki is an odd dog. You're never really sure if she's going to like things or hate things. But she usually reacts only one of those ways. She was terrified while we were in the car -- as though we were off to her execution. Once we were out of the car and into the old folks home, she was thrilled.
She darted around looking and sniffing. She tried to climb up my pant leg. She jumped and ran and scurried. People started coming out of their rooms to see what the commotion was all about. One old man came out and asked what kind of "thing" she was. He was quite confused by the fact she was more than one breed. Another woman told me about how her father used to raise dogs.
We went into Walter's room and chatted for a bit. Vicki settled into his lap as he pet her fur with his shaky hands. I read Walter a poem by Yeats while Vicki wandered the room. As I finished the poem, Walter took the book from me so he could read it himself. Apparently, I don't enunciate correctly.
Vicki disappeared a few times during our visit. I went looking and found her in various different rooms up and down the corridor. She was in heaven. Her heart was beating pretty quickly from the excitement of it all, but I think she found her calling.