WRITING TO HONOR GOD
By Gina Russo
My name is Muffin. I’m a poodle, of course I can talk. How else could I tell this story.
Mama is out shopping. I can daydream again.
I remember the early days when I sat looking out the Pet Shoppe window watching the people walk by. We were in the “Mall” you see. So many people. Some would stop and wave. Some would talk baby talk to me. How silly was that.
I was the prettiest one in the Shoppe. My fur was all white and fluffy and my eyes were black and my nose was a black button. I was 7 weeks old, and weighed only about 1 lb., the envy of all the others here.
One day Mr. Shoppe keeper took me out of the cage. I was terribly frightened and shaking all over, but he put me in the arms of this nice lady. She held me close in the curve of her neck. She didn’t say a word but I felt all warm and cuddly and safe. And before I fell asleep, I gave her a big kiss on her chin.
Yes, that was Mama. She took me home, and what a wonderful life I’ve had. A bed in practically every room, lots of toys. I love the stuffed animals the best. And Mama loves “red” so I’ve had red bows and red collar and red nail polish. Oh, and lots of treats and love. What else could a poodle want.
Mama talked to me all the time and then Uncle Joe came to live with us, and we became pals. I could always count on him to hold me when Mama left the house. Recently, Uncle Joe went home to be with Jesus. Oh yes, Mama tells me all about Jesus. All animals know Him, He created us you know.
I’m 11 yrs old now and every night, since I can remember, Mama sings to me. We sit and cuddle and she sings.
She always personalizes the songs with my name, She sings “Rock a bye, Muffin….” And of course “When the Muff, comes marching in….”
But Mama somehow loves that song from Fiddler on the Roof, and always begins and ends our sessions with, “Muffin girl, Muffin girl, da de da da….”
Oh, Oh, I heard the car door slam. Here comes Mama. Time for me to race to the door to greet her. I’m always happy to see Mama. And she’s always happy to see me.
And as I roll on my back and wiggle my butt, I think about tonight. “There goes that song again.”
I love Mama!