Believe me, after two years of retirement grocery shopping with my wife really was a bore. Susan loved comparing prices and taking an hour to buy a few items, but not for me and finally, I got into the habit of wandering to the pet store next door to the supermarket.
A man and his wife ran the place. It was always a constant din of yapping puppies of various breeds, kittens that were usually offered free and did a lot of meowing, fish tanks that bubbled and gurgled along one glass wall, and birds that screeched, sang and yelled in their assorted cages.
Hank and Sally were a bit younger than Susan and me but we all liked animals and if we lived any place but in a condominium, I would have had me a dog like Shadow, my Irish Setter that had retired from life long before we'd even moved to St. Pete's Beach, here in Florida.
Hank was a big guy just a bit stooped, with a shock of graying red hair and the youthful ruddy complexion that went with it. He liked to talk, boy did he like to talk! Sally, his wife, always liked to see me come in because she'd take off and head for the supermarket to do some shopping and get in some woman talk with my wife. I got so I really looked forward to the 3 or 4 times a week we'd do some shopping and we'd gotten friendly enough with them to even have a dinner or two together.
Now, I'd been noticing a young boy in Hank's store (it was called The Gilted Cage , a name I'm sure Hank never thought up). But anyway, this young fellow was about 6, maybe 7 and the reason I noticed him was that I saw his mother drop him off at the pet shop while she hurried into the grocery store herself. She seemed thin and kinda sad.
Now Hank had become rather testy about his enforced baby sitting as he called it but I kinda liked the kid. He reminded me of Ray, our grandson who we saw all too seldom since we moved South. He was sorta thin, skinny I guess you'd call it and freckles ran into each other across his cheeks and nose. He was sure a little guy and his knees were usually full of bruises, his hands were dirty and he annoyed the heck out of Hank because he sniffled a lot and never used a handkerchief. But I liked him especially because he and I liked the same pup, a fine brown eyed long legged flop eared Irish Setter that for some reason no one seemed to buy and he was getting pretty big for his cage.
Now this kid would come in and walk right up to the setter's cage and poke a couple of dirty fingers through the bars and kinda talk to the dog and they sure acted like they were meant for each other. Well, this went on for three weeks I guess it was and I kinda talked with the boy, found out that his name was Jimmy, and he was just 6, his father was dead, loved dogs, hated school, and didn't care much for grocery shopping either.
He wanted to know what I was called and I told him Ralph would be fine--somehow it didn't seem disrespectful.
That's why I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw Jimmy deliberately pick up a rubber animal toy and shove it in his pants pocket then wander to another spot where those rawhide bones were for sale in a big basket and pick up one of those, select one and with it in his hand as calm as you please walk out of the store.
Well, Hank had been sprucing up the fish tanks with some kinda green stuff and he hadn't seen a thing. Sally was gone as usual and I had been the only one to see Jimmy take this stuff.
He'd never done this before that I'd ever seen anyway. So I took off out of the door after that small figure about to enter the automatic doors of the supermarket. Sure I caught up with him right inside and all the time I had been racing to catch up to him, I kept thinking "What if this were Ray, how would I handle it? He was so young, so doggone wide eyed and innocent, his eyes as brown and wide as that Irish Setter in there that we both admired."
"Hey, Jimmy," I put my arms across his small shoulders, "Aren't you going to wait for your Mom to pick you up at the pet store?"
He shook his head and those soft brown eyes stared up at me as defiant as could be. He made no effort to hide the rawhide bone and I noticed he'd picked a big one--it took both of his small hands to hold it. His shoulder felt thin and narrow under my hand.
I swallowed. "Why did you take the stuff, Jimmy?" I nodded at the bone and with my other hand patted the bulge in his pants pocket I knew held the toy.
Jimmy placed the too large rawhide bone on the floor at his feet and reached slowly into his pocket, his small hand disappeared and it looked like that pocket was a foot deep as he seemed to get his arm in all the way to his elbow. He struggled a minute and finally pulled out a squeaky rubber fire hydrant, brilliant red and it squeaked louder as he finally wrenched it from its spot in his shorts pocket.
"They're for my dogs. I've got three, all different sizes--one's bigger than me even and they're better than that one we like next door--better than any dogs in the world and they're mine." He'd been talking fast, his head down, blond roughly cropped hair hanging around his face so I put a finger under his chin and lifted his head so I could look at him. He'd been sniffling but then he did that a lot but I wasn't prepared for the tears I saw in his eyes and made a path through his freckles.
"Jimmy, what in the world is the matter?"
His mother was tall with some sprinkling of freckles on her tip tilted nose. She balanced a bag of groceries on one hip and with one hand automatically pulled a piece of rumpled Kleenex from her shorts pocket and commanded Jimmy, "Blow". I hope I never get too old to appreciate a good looking woman--now take Susan, she still looks great to me but I can still look, "Just don't touch," laughs Susan.
"What's all this stuff and where did you get that toy and dog bone?" Eyes almost level with mine questioned me as Jimmy wiped a brown arm across his eyes and said defiantly, "They're for my dogs."
"But we don't have a dog and we're not getting a dog right now--they're too expensive. Now we're going right back to the pet shop and return these things--you did take them from there, didn't you, Jimmy?"
There was a hiccup and a shrug and I realized I still had my hand on his shoulder.
I don't know why I did it but there was something about those brown eyes full of tears looking at me--"I guess it was me that made the mistake, Ma'am. Jim here and I have been talking a lot and I just thought he had a dog and got these toys for his dog." I cleared my throat and hurried on as I could see Susan just about finished at the check out and wanted to get the words out before she appeared. In all the 40 years of married life she could always tell when I was lying; I never could hide a thing from her, but I had an idea.
"There's a red setter in the store next door too big for his cage and Jim and I sure like him only I can't keep him in my place but I thought maybe Jim could take care of him for me at his house? I'd sure like that."
Jimmy's mother looked relieved. "Since his father died it's kinda tough making both ends meet." She took the dog toy gently from Jimmy's hand and I picked up the bone that still laid on the floor near our feet.
"I work part of the day and Jim's in a day care place but he's nuts about animals, cats, birds, but especially dogs. He even makes up stories about his 3 dogs, and then I think and well, I guess that's his security blanket, really. His father has been dead only a year. Oh, my yes, I've heard about that Irish Setter next door and about you, for that matter. For the last two weeks, he's really looked forward to being with you and when you haven't been in the Gilted Cage, he has really been disappointed. He needs a man around, I guess--a boy does. My father lives in Australia so Jim doesn't even have a grandfather around. Oh, my dad tries with pictures and letters but things are so expensive we've not been able to visit so he's never seen his grandson." She paused just as Susan caught up with us.
"So here you are," her sharp blue eyes raking me up and down, softening as they rested on Jimmy. "Why, he looks like the last picture we got of Ray, doesn't he?" She turned to the boy's mother, "That's our grandson up North; we don't see him much anymore what with school and we're not so good at traveling too much." She paused and I took the small bag of groceries she handed me.
"Jim here and I are going next door and get that dog I was telling you about--that Irish Settler like Shadow. He and his mother can keep him at their place." I nodded at the wide eyed boy who seemed almost not to breathe. "They've a little house away from the busy area and then I can see him every day."
It was a smile like a giant sunbeam that flickered across the tan and freckles of Jimmy's face.
"But we couldn't accept an expensive gift like that," his mother glanced worriedly at all of us.
"Don't worry about that. Let's go back to the Gilted Cage," I said grabbing Jimmy's hand as he was already pulling me toward the door. "You do have a house and you cold keep a dog, couldn't you?" I made sure because Jimmy had told me where he lived but then had told me about those imaginary dogs, too.
Susan had been steadily staring at me and now as we turned out of the store and into the pet shop, she held me back.
"You're a sucker, Ralph, but I love you for it."
See, that's why Susan and I have made it so easily through the years together.
Hank was surprised when I told him I wanted to buy the setter, but he was happy to get rid of the dog as he was getting pretty big. So he even threw in a heavy chain and choke collar and when he released the dog from his cage, there were only two in that room--the red setter and Jim.
I couldn't take my eyes off the two. Suddenly, I saw myself 60 years ago with my first dog. He wasn't a full pedigred Irish Setter like this one here but he had some of that red feathery beauty on him and he and I roamed the farm where I grew up--my constant companion.
I remembered the day when I was about 7 and had cried into the dog's fur because my mother had been killed in a motor car mishap. The dog had helped a small boy to bear a giant sorrow. I was that small boy again with arms around a big dog just as Jim now on his knees fastening the collar around the neck of a red dog that waited patiently as if he knew that those small hands held his future forever.
"I don't know how we can ever thank you. I'm Jean Dittman and here's our address. Please, please do come and see that dog your are sharing with us--come often. We both need a substitute family; I need parents," she smiled at Susan, "and Jim needs a grandfather."
Jim held onto the dog's leash with both hands but the setter seemed to know that finally he was adopted and sat quietly waiting for them to head toward the door.
There was a tug on my jacket and I stooped down to Jim's eye level, "What are you going to call this red head?" I laughed and patted the soft, smooth, rust colored hair on the setter's head.
"I don't know--it's got to be just right," Jim said seriously, "and gee thanks for him--he's great." He paused, releasing one hand from the dog's leash and placed a thin arm around my neck. Like a soft Gulf breeze, his lips brushed my cheek, "Could I call you Grandpa, huh?"
"Sure would like that." I said.
Well, you know that was really the start of something we call Grandpas Anonymous down here in the Florida area. After all, there were quite a few guys my age who heard about Jim and there were a surprising number of youngsters who where here with no grandparents. Even a day a week to get together means happiness on both sides.
For a change, our age was an advantage to these young folks. We had time to go to the zoo, to investigate shells on the beach, to go fishing, and to listen to "You know what, Grandpa?" In our condo alone, there were 5 adopted grandpas and boy, were our wives happy; for a change, we weren't always underfoot and they could shop or gossip without a guilty conscience. Besides there were places now for their cookies and an incentive to bake something besides low cholesterol.
And you want to know something? The first time I visited Jim in their small house on Prince Street, a white frame with a small yard but neatly fenced in. I made a list of all the hammering, nailing, fixing, repairing stuff I could do and felt 20 years younger to be needed again.
The red setter, content and happy, waved a tail developing the usual graceful plumage and Jim, looking as though he had already put a few pounds on his thin frame, fairly bounded to the car door.
"I've decided what to call him. I thought and thought and my Mom said your name was Ralph--so meet my dog, Ralph."
This short story was probably started in the early 1980's after Mom and Dad retired to their first condo In St. Petersburg, Florida. She never typed it up and made corrections and edits on a legal pad. This is a sample:
About one of her favorite things to write about--dogs.