Angel is out of town, for three full weeks. She is attending advanced training classes to obtain certification and become a listed trainer on a national registry. Though it costs a lot more than a classified ad in a newspaper, the hope is that folks looking for dog training will be able to quickly and directly link up with her. She took Georgio (George) with her as he is the most stubborn of our trained dogs. Where the others snap to position on command, George slides slowly and reluctantly as if his limbs were operated by heavy hydraulics.
The classes are being held in Hazel Green Wisconsin. A small spot at the Iowa/Illinois/Wisconsin corner. Hazel Green is the location of that state’s first permanent settlement (1825), and is the geographical ‘point of beginning’ for all the state’s property deeds. That may sound important and significant, however that does not quite equate to stately grandeur; the town is only one and a half square miles in size and home to only eleven hundred people.
A week or so prior to leaving, Angel ran across a craigslist plea for assistance. A lady from a Chicago Suburb had adopted a puppy, site unseen, from someone in Desoto (a town very near our home) and needed help to get the pup from here to there. Angel, being the person she is, contacted both parties and arranged to take the puppy as far as Peoria, about as close a point to the lady’s suburb as her trip would take her. Of course my lovely wife did not ask for a dime. “It’s on the way and no trouble at all.” She said. I of course explained to her that “if you keep giving away your services like that, nobody will ever buy the cow!” Followed immediately by about an hour’s worth of apologies backlit by my son’s laughter.
Saturday, She took the two dogs we have been fostering, Max and Katy Sue, back to ‘the farm’ (the rescue group’s facility) for the duration. Fosters have to be managed separately from our own dogs, they don’t always get along so great, and without Angel about to ramrod the mixed herd, it was decided they could suffer kennel life for a while. She was taking George with her and that left only Blue, Bailey and Mystery at our house. Even lazy amateurs such as Adam and I can handle those three. The boys sleep a lot, and Bailey is quite content to spend the entire day in the back, using her commanding baritone bark to ward off all offending squirrels and motorcycles.
Later, Angel drove down to Desoto to pick up the puppy, an eight week old St. Bernard. This was the last of the litter that the owner had been blessed with; she had rescued the mom from a bad home situation and was not aware that the massive, but loveable dog was already in a family way. The blessings appeared out of nowhere, without warning. Fortunately they were the most cutest, fluffy faced, precious, cuddly things imaginable. Once posted on Petfinder.com, they went fast, the last of which to the lady in Chicago. Seriously, this little fuzz ball was beyond adorable. So adorable that you might easily forget that she would eventually weigh a hundred twenty pounds or so.
Sunday morning Angel packed her bags and dogs into her SUV, and left the boy and I alone in the driveway, sobbing. (not really, the boy wasn’t even out of bed at the time, and I don’t sob.)

Three full weeks of figuring out the least possible time and effort meals, cleaning techniques, and chores. Three full weeks driving a pathetic, tiny rental car so the boy can use my car to get to school and work. (he has a job at ‘Subway’ in Hillsboro).
Angel left a comprehensive checklist for us: 1. Feed the dogs. 2. Feed the fish. 3. Don’t burn the house down. So far so good.
The boy (Adam) is a pretty good housemate. He stays in his room or plugged in to the Wii downstairs most of the time, I can go weeks at a time without actually seeing him. He does things he is asked to do and doesn’t generally leave a big mess behind, not one that I have noticed anyhow. I saw him for a bit on Monday, I was watching T.V. contemplating snack and beverage options, he passed through to do… something, I don’t recall what. He sat for a moment and finally spoke: “It’s weird without mom here” I sighed heavily and paused the TV show (I love my DVR!) and replied “In what way?”
“I dunno” he replied, “nobody to talk to I guess.”
I thought about it for a moment: “You’re right.” I finally added. He wandered off, I pressed ‘play’. It was indeed a warm and touching moment of father-son bonding. I hope we can do it again sometime.