The terrible horrible very bad day

It was a beautiful Sunday in spring.
The day started out well enough, there was hot coffee and sunshine.  If you haven't looked outside lately though, there's this

I need a shirt that says "too many smells"
Let's just say there are many 'triggers' for my asthma this time of year. Only discovered less than three years ago I have asthma, since then it's been a learning curve. What sets me off, what doesn't, how many times I can wheeze before I get dizzy? I travel with my trusty rescue inhaler 24/7.  I have one particular bad trigger.. perfume.  Not your average light scent lilting through the room smell but those "grandmother-with-the-deep-red-lipstick, Jungle Gardenia kind of smells" ... which makes me think, what if a burglar broke in doused in heavy perfume? I would be completely powerless. Not pertinent to the story but important to note. 

Sunday morning, we walk in and say hello to friends as we make our way to the fourth row from the back [not the very back row or the second.. I'm a progressive Baptist] We settle in, purse under my feet. I locate two ink pens in my purse (before he has the chance to ask for one) because I'm nothing if not efficient. Reading glasses at the ready and Bible open in the chair beside me. I decide it's all correctly arranged and notice my little setup could probably be in Southern Living magazine.. all I need is a small vase of flowers and a couple throw pillows. 

 Just as I get it all as I like it, my senses alert me to something peculiar.. my right eye is burning... Oh no. My throat gets that familiar itchy feeling, my chest tightens.. The music progresses and I'm trying my best to get to a place of personal worship but it's really hard when you feel like you just walked into a carpet warehouse.  All that new carpet burning your throat, your eyes begin to water.. must. have. fresh. air.  I begin to cough.. [God love her] that one lady, ALWAYS cuts her eyes at me like "can't you be still & quiet?"  I silently think, she's probably the one wearing the napalm. 

Quietly, I tell my husband, "I have to move" and he gives me that look "really?" [he begins fanning me as if I'm overheated] "I'm choking here, Cowboy. I don't think fanning is the answer.  

I gather my goods and after making a couple glances to see who is close.  

Oops, can't sit by her, God love her. Nope, her either-I wasn't aware they still made Aqua net.) I spot two seats back and to the left. Husband follows, looking irritated, as if it's my fault I can't breath?! We settle in and I take a deep breath. He looks at me waiting for the approval cue. Yes, we can stay. I smell nothing, absolutely nothing. Wait. . . did I put on deodorant this morning? I should at least be able to smell my own "Sporty scent" deodorant, right?  I turn to my husband, 

Psstt...  do I smell?

What? I don't smell anything, don't tell me we have to move again.
No no, do I smell bad?
Why would you smell bad?
Oh, never mind.

I have doused my eyes thoroughly with eye drops, I'm beginning to perspire, I hit my inhaler and the burning has subsided a bit. I'm sure no one can tell I'm having an issue this morning. 

The Pastor has begun his sermon as a young couple slip in late trying not to be noticed, they take their seats a couple rows behind us. Before long, "too many smells" begin to permeate the space around me like a cloud. For the love of all that's good, it's happening again.
By the time we make it to the car, I have a pounding headache, I'm wheezing like I've climbed Mount Everest and I'm getting stuffy.  I think maybe people think I'm not friendly but I'm simply escaping the smells. I will spend the afternoon with a massive headache, stuffy nose, wheezing and generally a doctor appointment the next day.
I hit the rescue inhaler a couple times more and turn the car air on full blast at my face, waiting for the napalm smell to disappear from my clothing. Let me say, it's not those precious people I go to church with, it's me. I'm the faulty one. I don't know why? I played in the dirt as a child, had my vaccinations and ate most of my vegetables. It is part of my life now.
As we back out of our parking spot without missing a beat, this man who can't remember what he ate for breakfast says, I didn't know they still made Aqua net. 

There's a little joy here again.

When I began this blog, I shared one of our family members, KittyWitchens.

A wonderful, persnickety, sometime grumpy and misbehaving Maine Coon. He followed you around the house, he fetched and he was very vocal. Simply the coolest cat ever.

 

Then, one day there was another... 

                                             

Our cat of 16 years had died and I was missing her.  My daughter worked for a vet at the time and came across a baby who'd been abandoned. We brought her home/ She was shy around others and if you visited you likely would not see  her. She didn't like crowds. She came alive when it was only Don and I home. She traipsed back and forth across me at night, (my face if I wasn't watchful) there was "rocket butt" runs in the night, skips, tumbles and play that rivaled a ninja.. I had named her Miss Chevious and she certainly was. In her tenth year, she became sick.. after vet stays, tests, antibiotics, fluids and daily subQ's to keep her comfortable, she died quietly beside me in the summer of 2014. Kitty Witchens died early in 2015 from cancer at the age of twelve. For the first time in over thirty years our home was very quiet. No furry friends greeted me at the door.
Time marches on as it has a way of doing and there are grandchildren, new interests and of course, we have the horses. Our home has been lonely still. Don has never needed animals in the way I do but I knew it was time for me to begin looking for a new little friend.

Meantime, the new neighbors moved in across the street. A nice young man with daughters in high school, a significant other in Med school and a business that he works very hard. They are hardly home- we pass in our yards and wave. They have a little dog, black and bouncy. I'm not sure what he is, he's shaggy. He has escaped across the road a few times. (We live on a cul de sac) I dared the grandchildren to talk to or touch him, we do not want him thinking he belongs here. I would take him home each time. He snuggled down in my arms each time I took him home as if he knew me. Little did I know my Don had planted a seed. Quietly, without my knowledge he had shared with our neighbor, "if you ever feel you need to give this dog up... "


One January night I stood in our front door facing our neighbor, while he holds this little black bundle of energy, a bag of dog food in the other hand. [My husband grinning like a Cheshire cat]
He explained, it isn't fair to the puppy, being home all day alone. We are far too busy at this time to have a dog. I want you to have him. Your husband told me you were looking for a pet. What? We tried to pay him and he wouldn't have it. No, he says. You need the dog and the dog needs you.

As I write today, my buddy is beside me. A sweet mini-schnauzer who was not very socialized or house trained due to being alone. [He learned quickly] I think, how kind and loving to do what's right for the dog.
His shots were updated and we got him a good clip where we could see his eyes. His name was Benjamin Button, we call him "Buttons." He's a delightful companion, loves the grandchildren, camping trips and long walks around the neighborhood. As for our home, it feels wonderful again. It makes me think of the Savior. He desires we remain close, depend on and trust Him, spend our days and nights with Him. There's a joy here in our home again, just like with my Savior.
Meet Buttons.