The Puppy

We took Kathryn out to eat last night for her birthday dinner. Each child gets a dinner of their choosing with just mom & dad for their birthday. It's a tradition Kurt grew up with and wanted to continue. I'm all for it!

Originally we were headed to Subway so Kathryn could get her treasured Meatball Sub, but somewhere between KCID Road and McDonald's, we were turning the other direction and headed for Golden Corral.

Golden Corral was a favorite of mine growing up, though now that they've gone "buffet" and no longer offer what used to be the very best Chicken Fried Steak on the planet, well....

But what kid in their right mind would pass up the chance to have AS MUCH of pretty much ANYTHING they might want? The only downside to GC (compared to say, Chuck-o-Rama) is that they make your drink for you so you can't make a "suicide" by going down the line and getting a little of each kind. Oh the liquid goodness a little bit of Sprite AND Rootbeer AND Lemonade AND Orange AND Powerade is!

It was a busy night in the Corral, with the line nearly out the door when we got there. Lots of interesting people were in line. The guy with the big box marked "books" in his arms, there celebrating his son's birthday. He'd decided the best way to disguise a present was to mark it "books". Too funny.

There was the little boy whose hair was long and very braidable.

There was the sweet looking middle-aged man who was there with his mother. It looked like she was doing a very good job of taking care of him. And would get to continue to do so until the end of her life. Or his.

There was the guy in the blue "Cougars" jacket. I liked him and thought fondly of my Alma Mater.

Then.

There was The Puppy. I watched him come in with his parents, his sister and his grandma and sit down where it was very easy for me to watch him and not seem like I was staring. Though I wonder if he'd have even noticed if he could have seen me.

He, too, was set to enjoy a dinner of anything and everything at the Corral.

Except.

The Puppy wasn't allowed to get up again. His food would be brought to him.

First a chicken leg, some cottage cheese and potato salad, I think.

The Puppy was about seven I supposed. Buzzed-cut. Glasses. Jeans with holes in the knees and velcro sneakers. I couldn't see that he had socks on.

The Puppy sat and quietly ate what was brought. Using his fork a little like it was new to him, but bite after bite, his food disappeared. He would look up sometimes to listen to the conversation going on, but it was like he knew better than to say anything.

Grandma sat next to The Puppy, with one chair between them. I don't know what this sweet boy might have ever done, but he found no favor with his Grandma. Though he tried to use his napkin and to make sure every drop of food stayed on his plate, it would not be enough to satisfy Grandma.

Grandma took a napkin to The Puppy's hands and scraped them clean like they were covered in sludge. The sweet Puppy didn't flinch though I'm sure it must have hurt a little.

Other times as he ate, The Puppy was glared at by grandma. Grumpy Grandma. It seemed like he couldn't have done enough even if he did everything.

I looked away long enough and got engaged with my own table long enough that when I looked over again The Puppy was taking bites of a big salad. Olives. Carrots. Tomatoes. I heard him ask his mom if he was supposed to eat the skins. Had he not had something so wonderful as a piece of fresh tomato before? I continued to watch as The Puppy ate bite after bite after crunchy bite of his salad, never stopping to make a comment or interrupt the conversation going around him.

I could tell The Puppy was hungry.

It was around this time that I noticed his shirt. It made me cringe because it spoke so loudly of who these BIG people were that were with The Puppy. These were folks for whom personal grooming was not a priority or anywhere near it. Certain undergarments for the women, typically worn by girls from the time they go through puberty, were missing. They looked like they weren't far from Grumpy themselves. Sister was a Princess, The Puppy was an afterthought. If that. Yet he seemed just as happy and lucky to be there.

I believe that people generally do the best with what they have. Grumpy Grandma however told me that choice had been a big part of who they were and where they were in life last night.

My Puppy ate and ate and ATE on his salad. Mom, Dad, Sister Princess and Grumpy Grandma had all gone for dessert and come back. They had all eaten their ice cream and their pie and their chocolate cake. I heard The Puppy ask about dessert. Grumpy Grandma muttered something to Dad about Puppy's slow eating or that he didn't deserve dessert or something. She was a little too far away for me to hear her well. But I thought, "oh no! EAT PUPPY!! EAT!"

Somehow Puppy believed them when they told him that all there was was pie and jello. Even though Sister Princess had come back with a big ice cream cone and Mom and Grumpy Grandma had had other things as well.

I heard him ask, between bites of his now nearly gone salad, if he could have jello. No one seemed to notice and a few bites more had gone by when Grumpy Grandma put her coat on, signaling she'd be ready to go soon.

EAT PUPPY EAT!

I'll admit that I am a ball of hormones these days. So Puppy and his sweetness and Grumpy Grandma and her coldness hit me harder and deeper than they might have otherwise. Maybe you're wondering why I've even bothered to write all of this.

It was his shirt.

The words were arched over the top of three crosses. They are famous. You probably know the verse already.

"Train Up A Child"

Ahhhghhh!

NO!

PUPPY!!

I love that verse. I appreciate that verse and the insight and comfort and instruction that it gives.

But not on My Puppy. Did his family REALLY THINK they were training him up in the way he should go? With Grumpy Grandma and Dad ~ Ignoring Dad ~ and Sister Princess being the apple of everyone's eye?

Oh Puppy....

I wanted to go over and help him finish his salad. I wanted to go over and give him a hug and tell him how special he is and what a good boy he is. I wanted to give him my two dollars, though I'm not sure why. Just part of the ball of emotion I was and the love I felt for this precious boy. I wanted him to have some jello. And some chocolate ice cream if he wanted it. With sprinkles. LOTS of sprinkles. And gummy bears and whipped cream. Whatever he wanted. As much as he wanted.

BECAUSE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GET AS MUCH AS YOU WANT OF WHATEVER YOU WANT AT GOLDEN CORRAL!!

Nearly Good Mom disappeared and I hoped that she was gone to get My Puppy his jello. But I wasn't sure. Grumpy Grandma was waiting, after all. With her coat on already.

By now we were pretty much done eating. I slowed to eat the last bites on my plate so we wouldn't leave before I knew that My Puppy had gotten his jello.

I could see down the buffet to the side where the desserts were. I hoped that I'd see Nearly Good Mom coming with it.

And finally, I saw her walking back with a plate in her hand. And it was wiggling with red jello.

Thank Goodness!

I was reminded that there are many degrees of caring. I do not think necessarily that My Puppy was being abused. Generally neglected? Maybe. Regularly told to "straighten up!"? Probably. Grumpy Grandma would probably be hated when Puppy got to be a teenager. I hoped not, but how long would Puppy tolerate Grumpy Grandma's harshness?

As it was time for us to go, I still had resist the urge to give My Puppy a hug. To tell him that I'd been watching him and that he was a very good boy.

Later I wished I had taken his picture with my phone because I knew I'd have to write about seeing this very good, very special Puppy.

I did though hug my own boy and breathe him in and hold him when I got home.

I know though that you can learn as much if not more from a bad example as you can from a good one. I learned a lot last night.

One of the things I was reminded of was the contents of another verse. It's pretty famous, too.

The Savior is speaking. He says, "But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea." (Matt 18:6)

I am not necessarily a good mother of a two year old. But today I hope that because of last night, I am better than yesterday.