Rex and I were out driving around, just for fun. At least I think he finds it fun. If he sees a cute little teacup poodle sashaying her bootie down the sidewalk, he’ll whimper. I know the feeling; if I see a mini skirt sashaying, I’ll whimper too.

We came upon a convalescent home, The Golden Pines, and I had an idea. “Rex, what d’ya say we stop and see if you can visit some of the older people in there? They love dogs. You’ll be a knockout with them. Want to?” Rex was sniffing my candy bar wrapper on the front seat, oblivious to my suggestion. “Rex. The candy’s gone. It was a Pay Day, and you always spit the peanuts out, and the sticky filling sticks to the roof of your mouth. Remember?” I don’t think he remembered.

I pulled into the parking lot, parked, and hoisted the soon-to-be little Candy Striper in my arms and in we went to find the manager.
“Yes, I was wondering if my little dog Rex could visit some people.”

“Does he bite?” was her question.

“Only if you try to take away a bowl of Cherry Garcia ice cream that he’s working on. Other than that, no, he doesn’t bite.”

“Why, that would be nice to have a little dog visit the rooms. Try 217; Mr. Edmunson would love to have a visit from, ah . . .”

“Rex.” Rex wagged his tail to indicate he was open for business.

“Yes, Rex. Well, just knock on 217 and go on in. Call him ‘Colonel.’” Golden Pines was a cheery enough place and Rex and I found our way to the Colonel’s room. I knocked and went in.

“Hi, I’m Tom and this little canine torpedo is Rex. Thought we’d stop by and say hi.” The Colonel saluted Rex and I took Rex’s paw and had Rex salute back. The Colonel laughed, Rex wagged his tail, and the bond was set. Rex wandered into the Colonel’s bathroom and put his paws up on the toilet.

The Colonel chuckled, “Looks like that little Rex wants a drink out of the toilet. Go ahead, lift the seat, pull up that step stool so he can climb up and get a drink of that delicious Golden Pines water.”

I went in the bathroom, moved the stool over and lifted the big, thick padded seat on the toilet. Rex hopped on the stool and draped himself over the commode, lapping up water like a camel in the Gobi. I sat back down to talk with the Colonel. Momentarily. Rex let out a yelp as though he was being massacred, and looked like he was running for his life! Evidently the toilet seat had come crashing down on his head, scaring the daylights out of him. He ran out of the bathroom, caromed off the chest of drawers, T-boned the Colonel’s valet which had a pair of boxer shorts hanging off it. HAD is the operative word. Somehow, Rex ran through the boxers and they got caught on him, forming a cape, which scared him even more.

Rex blew through the doorway and into the hall. A nurse with a full lunch cart saw a bug-eyed small black Dachshund wearing a pair of men’s boxer shorts and attempted to steer out of his path. The cart turner over—a dozen or so lunches tumbled to the floor. Rex was scared by the menacing cart and ran between the legs of an elderly lady shuffling down the hall with a walker and oxygen tank. The woman was so startled she grabbed onto the wall to steady herself. Where she grabbed was the fire alarm, which started clanging at 100 decibels (or so.) This threw Rexie into further turmoil. I gave chase to him but couldn’t catch him.

To evade further calamity, Rex dove through the door of #229. I ran into the room and saw no Rex. An older woman (an “older woman” in a nursing home is an ooooooolllllld woman,) was in her bed and looking confused. Why not? A dog and a strange man breathing heavily had just entered her room. “Dog. My dog is in here . . . somewhere.” I looked under the bed. Two black eyes peered at me in the darkness. I reached for Rex and he growled at me. Not good. The woman started pressing her “attendant” bell and screamed, “Rape!! Rapist!! Rape in two-two-nine!!”
I grabbed for Rex again and he ran out the end of the bed and back into the hallway. Out in the hallway, Rex turned a hard left and stopped in his tracks. As I turned the corner, three firemen brandishing hoses and fire axes stood at the entrance. Rex was trapped: the entire hospital entourage behind and the fire department in front of him.

“What’s going on here?” bellowed a fireman.

Rex turned around, ran up to me and I scooped him up in my arms. “We, ah, we were just leaving. I wouldn’t go in room #229 with the fire hoses and axes right now. No fire. No fire.”

As the manager came to sort things out, Rex and I eased out a side door. I put Rex in the car and slid in next to him. “Rex, you look absolutely silly in men’s boxer shorts. So much for The Golden Pines. Wanna go get a Costco pizza and call it a day?”