LIFE AS A MINION . . .

Sunday
JKA and I decide we'd visit M this week, before we took off for the NHF retreat this weekend. Wednesday evening? Tuesday evening? Hmmmm, we were waffling, so we tell M we'll show up when we show up. We ask if there was anything in particular she wants, other than some sweets she had previously requested. No, M replies, nothing else. So, JKA and I agree to meet on either Tuesday or Wednesday. Waffle, waffle.

Monday
At 10pm, I receive an excited phone call from C.
"I know what you can bring when you go to see M this week! . . . POPCORN!"

Now, picture me lying in bed, formerly quietly reading a book, holding my phone away from my ear in a vain attempt to prevent hearing loss caused by C screaming into his cell phone, wondering why he's so excited about a snack food.

"Like, Smartfood?" I ask incredulously, still kind of skimming my book.

Pause.

"WHAT?! NO!!!! THE DOG!!!"
C's exasperated. As if I should have known better.

C has a plan: after work on Tuesday, I will pick up JKA and M&C's crazy Jack Russell terrier (that would be the aforementioned Popcorn), then drive down to the hospital. I will give C a sneaky call when we have arrived, and C will roll M outside "for some air," at which point she will be pleasantly surprised by a joyous reunion with her beloved pup.

After consultation with JKA, I agree but experience a fair share of agita: Popcorn is crazy. Every time I see her at C's house, she's hyper, spastic, humping something (it's a domination thing, they say), barking, attempting to chomp on other dogs, or trying to bite off my nose. And I just agreed to have her in the small, enclosed space of my car for 50 minutes?!?!?!

Tuesday
C finds me online, mid-morning. "I have a better plan," he says, "but it will give you more agita."

Great. This I have to hear.

C proceeds to tell me that he's cooking up a storm -- French onion soup (later dubbed Freedom soup, natch), scallops on a bed of sauteed spinach and shallots, 21 Club-style burgers with stinky cheese, ginger crepes with creme fraiche -- and that we are going to have a picnic in the evening, in the courtyard of M's hospital.

"Lovely!" I think to myself. "I'm SO there."

C then proceeds to tell me that in addition to crazy Popcorn, JKA and I have to load my car up with a cooler and picnic basket full of food, a bag full of picnic accessories, and a portable picnic table. Oh. Okay. Jeez.

Popcorn is a Super-Star
My agita was for naught. Popcorn was . . . well, so un-Popcorny. JKA and I walked timidly into M&C's house, feeling not a little bit like a pair of dognappers. We walked towards Popcorn's lounge -- a little room off the kitchen -- waiting to hear the sounds of frantic barking and scuffling. Nothing. There she was, peering at us through the glass panes of the door, standing still, blinking brightly, tail wagging benignly.

I took a deep breath, grabbed her leash off the door-handle, and creaked open the door a few inches, breathlessly anticipating a rabid leap for my nose. Nothing. Popcorn stuck her neck out, inviting the leash to latch onto her collar. I swear she smiled at me. I led her out of her lounge and into the kitchen, where JKA was preparing to carry the food out and into the car. One quick, gentle jump onto JKA's legs, a still timid pat on Popcorn's head, and we headed out.

Popcorn didn't want to pee before getting in the car -- rats! -- but she did hop nicely into the front seat (poor JKA, out-shotgunned by a DOG), sniff around a bit, then settle into the towel I had laid out for her. "I'm ready now. Onward, Jeeves," she was saying. I swear she knew she was going to see her mommy.

Once the car got rolling, Popcorn lay down with her head on her paws and chilled out. Whenever the car slowed, she braced herself against the dashboard and took a quick peek around. When the scenery got boring, she lay back down and dozed some more. Occasionally, she licked my shoulder or JKA's hand -- ew! ew! ew! -- but she eventually tired of us, too. Only when we got into Manhattan -- completely unfamiliar surroundings -- did Popcorn perk up a little, whining out the window at passing dogs, staring intently at little children, jawing at pedestrians, flicking her ears at the strange and noisy sounds of the streets. I swear she knew mommy was close.

Dining Al Fresco . . . at the Hospital
As C was rolling M downstairs, JKA, JAhn and I set up dinner and awaited their arrival. We witnessed the joyous family reunion, then not-so-subtlely excused ourselves to wash our hands (dog spit, remember?).

After an appropriate period of time had passed, we returned to the courtyard and dove into the food. Scrumptious! Who knew C was capable of creating such delicacies, much less remembering the details, like matching plates, bowls, utensils and napkins, wine and sparkling cider, decaf coffee percolating in a camper's coffee pot, even crushed ginger snaps to garnish the crepes and creme fraiche?! Who knew, indeed . . .

Poor Popcorn had a Cujo moment -- the city freaked her out, and the annoying little boy walking into the courtyard and taunting her didn't help. Tired M had two contractions. Soy spilled the sparkling cider. The stinky cheese really stank (note to self: Asiago in moderation).

But it was fun anyway. A perfect breezy and dry evening. M getting fresh air and doggie-kisses. Soy practicing her mothering skills on Popcorn. M not being completely surprised -- C's not good at keeping secrets, she says -- but being pleased nonetheless. JKA eating slow like molasses. Me rolling M up to her room and not quite being adept at maneuvering the wheelchair. It was all good.

Popcorn is a Super-Star, Again
C's brother dropped by, and they decided to go out for one last hurrah before Brother moves out to California on Thursday. Hmm. That meant I had custody of Popcorn again.

With the car re-loaded, and JKA and JAhn once more relegated to the back seat in deference to the dog, we headed back home. Poor exhausted Popcorn. She hardly had the energy to look up at the passing lights of the city. She shuffled around a bit before settling into the most adorable position: head resting on the middle console, eyes lifted towards me sadly, gazing at me as if to ask "Where is my mommy?" I swear she knew it would be a while before another reunion occurred. Sigh. "Popcorn, sweetie, you are a pop star," I told her. Anything to make her feel better.

Popcorn perked up again, though, once we drove into her neighborhood. I swear she knew where her house was. She hopped to the ground, strolled up the steps and into the house, and let me unleash her when we got to her room. She sadly walked into her lounge towards her bed. Poor lonely exhausted Popcorn.

A quick unload, a double-check on the locked door, a short drive to drop off J2, and a leisurely drive home. Finally home, I was able to think through the evening, say a quick prayer for M and the Noodles, and ponder the absolute and unconditional generosity and selflessness of my friends, before dropping off into an exhausted sleep myself.

Mission accomplished.