BOW #30: Sabra
Thursday, March 29, 1974
7:38 p.m. Central Standard Time
“Mitchie, it’s been a really long day, so why don’t we look for a motel, go eat and make it a day.”
“Yeah...” Michael piped up “...I’m starving!”
Piping up also. “Yeah, mommy, I’m hungry and have to make sissy bad.”
Approaching the ‘West Des Moines exit’. “Okay.” The Mercury Station Wagon followed the cloverleaf road taking them into town.
Remaining on the street at the end of the cloverleaf, which also led in the direction of the closest well-lite business area.
...Pointing over his father’s shoulder, “There’s one.” Michael said.
The large neon light seen from a block away: ‘NIGHTFALL MOTE’.
Pulling into the circular driveway of a rambling, two story motel, stopping before the double plate glass doorway.
“Doesn’t look too bad, Mitch.”
“Daddy, I got to make sissy bad!”
“Okay, honey, come on in with me.”
“Hi!”
“Yes Sir...” the man behind the check-in counter asked “...can I help you?”
“Yes, we’d like a room with two double beds, please. And could my daughter here use your bathroom?”
“Sure, of course…” gesturing to an alcove to the left of the desk “...bathroom’s right in there, sweetheart.”
Sliding the register across the Formica counter. “You and your daughter only?”
Neglecting to mention Sabra. Signing the register. “No, no, there’s four of us; my wife and our son also,.”
“That’ll be thirty-five, fifty.”
“Taking the cash from his wallet, the fifty cents from his pocket and handing both to the man.
“Anyplace decent to eat nearby? And also, my wife is a very light sleeper so I’m wondering...” nodding his head backward “...if you’ve any rooms away from the boulevard here ”
“Yes, sure, ‘Millie’s’ is about a block that way…” jerking his thumb to his left “... and a couple of pretty nice trucker’s stops.”
Taking a key from the boxed rack behind the counter. “ ‘47A’ is around back…” jerking his thumb to the right “...that way, also...” smiling “...your room faces a small field for your dog.”
Taking the key, blushing at being caught in a… ‘omitance ‘ “Thank you. We appreciate that.”
Driving to the rear of the motel, to room’47A.
“The man said that there’s a field behind the motel, Mikey. So while your mother and I carry the bags in, why don’t you take Sabra for a walk.”
“Sure, Dad.”
****
Coming from outside, unhooking the leash. “She won’t make.”
Coming from the bathroom, wiping her hands on a towel. “Nothing?” Marsha asked.
“No...” Michael said “...no ‘poop’ or ‘piddle’.”
Somehow knowing they were talking about her. Stepping onto one of the beds, her eyes followed the conversation regarding her bowel movement, Sabra lay with her head resting on her front paws.
“That’s not like her...” Marsha added “...she hasn’t made since we left the house this morning.
Going into the bathroom. “Maybe with the excitement of the move and all…” Mitchell said from behind the closed door “...she doesn’t have to.”
Lying on the bed alongside the large dog. “Maybe Sabra is used to ‘making’ in the pen, and doesn’t want to make anyplace else, Mommy.”
Sitting next to her daughter, brushing Sherry’s cheek. “Know what, honey; I think you might be right.”
“I’m starving!” Michael said. “Let’s go eat!”
BOW #31: Sorry...
But I have no ending for the BOW series….
I cannot imagine that this has not happened to all that write novels.
We write and build and develop an interesting story involving interesting characters and places and times and circumstances and then— as this writer now— after writing this complete addendum…
If after writing this wholly original addition to my two 700 plus page factional, semi-fictional novels : “Becoming” and “For Better or Worse”…
If after writing approximately 76,300 words in the “BOW” (Better or Worse0) series’ — If all this writer can come up with is nothing more exiting than waiting for a Great Dane dog to ‘piddle or ‘poop’ than I must ‘sadly’ leave the Lipensky family stranded on that sidewalk in Des Moines, Iowa on their way to dinner.
However...
