Ray, Bentley. Bentley, Ray.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
I really was looking forward to Bingo tonight—it’d been so long since we had a nice, normal nighttime Bingo … plus, I was bringing my puppy.
Things started out well. As soon as I pulled in, Gary and Doreen were coming out to Doreen’s car. I wrangled Bentley the baby dog out of my car and walked him over to Gary, who was suitably sweet—and typically Gary. “I’m glad you’re feeding that thing,” he said.
I stowed Bentley in the car and was thrilled to see a full house at Bingo. That lasted for three seconds.
“There’s nobody here to call Bingo, and no prize cart,” Dorothy said right off the bat. “What do you want to do?”
I made a general announcement that we were going to try to save Bingo. I went in search of Someone Who Knew Things, and Dorothy went to the nurses’ station to call Greg the Bingo caller. I struck out. Dorothy did, too. “Greg said he can’t walk over here,” she said.
I wandered down to the room where the prize cart lives, and there it sat, all alone, and totally empty. We were screwed.
“I’m going to have a nurse cancel Bingo,” Dorothy said at the news. And she did.
I made another general announcement: Bingo has fallen through the cracks. There was general grumbling and shuffling, one loud “That’s bullshit!” response and three or four holdouts who just didn’t grasp the message.
“And you drove all the way out here,” Leo Martell said.
“Yes, I did,” I said back.
No one was happy, but eventually everyone left. Billy was not giving up so easily, though: He offered to use all of his earlier Bingo winnings as prizes and, as proof of his sincerity, filled a box with his loot and rolled it back in. I told him everyone had gone home, but he would not drop the idea. The whole night. Maybe longer.
Meanwhile, I figured I had driven all the way out here, so I followed Ray McDade to his room and challenged him to a game of Cribbage. He accepted. (And why wouldn’t he? He always beats me.)
We played a lively round in the Activities Center, where Billy found us and would not stop talking about his plan to revive Bingo. I felt bad discouraging him, but I also felt bad interrupting our Cribbage game. Billy went on and on and on. There was no comfortable solution.
“I can’t understand a word he says,” Ray said.
Ray beat me soundly—again—and I told him about our new puppy. “I can’t wait to meet him,” Ray said.
“He’s in the car right now,” I said.
“He is?!?” Ray said. “Well, what are we doing in here? Let’s get my jacket.”
At the car, I figured I’d leash Bentley and set him on the ground, but when I turned around, Ray had his arms out. “You want him on your lap?” I said. He did, he did, he did.
In people time, Bentley the puppy is smack in the middle of The Terrible Twos; he switches from angelic to demonic in the blink of an eye. But when I set him on Ray’s lap, he nestled in calmly and sweetly. Ray cuddled him and talked to him and beamed, and Bentley just sat there and soaked it all up.
“Wow,” I said.
It was cold out, so I packed up Bentley and said goodnight to Ray, and on the way home, I tried to calculate the age gap between these two new friends—11 weeks vs. 4,628 weeks, give or take.
Had Bingo played out, their sweet connection might not have. So that was worth the drive.
I really was looking forward to Bingo tonight—it’d been so long since we had a nice, normal nighttime Bingo … plus, I was bringing my puppy.
Things started out well. As soon as I pulled in, Gary and Doreen were coming out to Doreen’s car. I wrangled Bentley the baby dog out of my car and walked him over to Gary, who was suitably sweet—and typically Gary. “I’m glad you’re feeding that thing,” he said.
I stowed Bentley in the car and was thrilled to see a full house at Bingo. That lasted for three seconds.
“There’s nobody here to call Bingo, and no prize cart,” Dorothy said right off the bat. “What do you want to do?”
I made a general announcement that we were going to try to save Bingo. I went in search of Someone Who Knew Things, and Dorothy went to the nurses’ station to call Greg the Bingo caller. I struck out. Dorothy did, too. “Greg said he can’t walk over here,” she said.
I wandered down to the room where the prize cart lives, and there it sat, all alone, and totally empty. We were screwed.
“I’m going to have a nurse cancel Bingo,” Dorothy said at the news. And she did.
I made another general announcement: Bingo has fallen through the cracks. There was general grumbling and shuffling, one loud “That’s bullshit!” response and three or four holdouts who just didn’t grasp the message.
“And you drove all the way out here,” Leo Martell said.
“Yes, I did,” I said back.
No one was happy, but eventually everyone left. Billy was not giving up so easily, though: He offered to use all of his earlier Bingo winnings as prizes and, as proof of his sincerity, filled a box with his loot and rolled it back in. I told him everyone had gone home, but he would not drop the idea. The whole night. Maybe longer.
Meanwhile, I figured I had driven all the way out here, so I followed Ray McDade to his room and challenged him to a game of Cribbage. He accepted. (And why wouldn’t he? He always beats me.)
We played a lively round in the Activities Center, where Billy found us and would not stop talking about his plan to revive Bingo. I felt bad discouraging him, but I also felt bad interrupting our Cribbage game. Billy went on and on and on. There was no comfortable solution.
“I can’t understand a word he says,” Ray said.
Ray beat me soundly—again—and I told him about our new puppy. “I can’t wait to meet him,” Ray said.
“He’s in the car right now,” I said.
“He is?!?” Ray said. “Well, what are we doing in here? Let’s get my jacket.”
At the car, I figured I’d leash Bentley and set him on the ground, but when I turned around, Ray had his arms out. “You want him on your lap?” I said. He did, he did, he did.
In people time, Bentley the puppy is smack in the middle of The Terrible Twos; he switches from angelic to demonic in the blink of an eye. But when I set him on Ray’s lap, he nestled in calmly and sweetly. Ray cuddled him and talked to him and beamed, and Bentley just sat there and soaked it all up.
“Wow,” I said.
It was cold out, so I packed up Bentley and said goodnight to Ray, and on the way home, I tried to calculate the age gap between these two new friends—11 weeks vs. 4,628 weeks, give or take.
Had Bingo played out, their sweet connection might not have. So that was worth the drive.
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