Mefran and Vic
I always recycle gift bags, and, yes, they look like it. Most all have been “rode hard and put up wet” and are on the wrinkled/torn/soiled side. But aren’t they about to get wrinkled/torn/soiled within seconds of being received by the recipient anyway? That’s what I thought.
I’m not sentimental about gift wrappings at all. In fact, I’m irritated by them. There’s way too much pressure, thanks to my friend Erin. Her gifts look like they should be on display in a thoughtfully curated gift shop, like Sower or Revival. They always have appropriate trinkets attached to the bow (and there is always a full, fabulous bow), like a tiny wooden spoon to go with the luxurious bath salts inside. I definitely save all of her wrappings but they never look the same when I gift them.
Right before Christmas, I went to my collection of reused gift bags and pulled out a treasure. Not only was this one actually in pristine shape, it was hilarious. “Gifts You Will Dislike” was printed in big block letters on the outside of the bag in the traditional gift bag colors.
I immediately burst into tears.
My next door neighbor, Mefran, had given me a gift in this bag exactly a year ago. The bag was perfect for the gift inside: a George Forman grill … for dogs. Decorated with dog bones on the outside, the interior mold was in the shape of a dog bone, too.
After I pulled myself together, I laughed out loud. Mefran had known this would be a gift I would dislike. She always teased me about “Poor Vic,” my dog, who definitely preferred her over me. Who wouldn’t? Besides the fact that she was Mefran, the most fun, most irreverent, most thoughtful, most big-hearted person ever, she treated my bad dog the same way my friend Erin treats gift wrapping: over-the-top.
Mefran did not merely share her leftovers with Vic. No. She actually went to the grocery store and shopped for him. She knew his preferences: hamburger and bacon, and she fried these things for the dog! After he ate his fill of smoked bacon fried to the perfect crispness, he made his way to her lap for “his massage,” as she called it. Feet up in the air, she rubbed his belly and cooed all manner of things in her Boston accent to him, like “You are a good ‘naba’ and a ‘joka can neva make a pair in Mah Jongg, neva neva neva.’ I swear, I can’t pick up a joker without hearing that admonishment.
Anyway, this past December I made my Christmas list on the notepad she gave me with the headline “Bad Ideas” on each page and put on my huge glittery Santa earrings that I got from her estate sale for any holiday outing. It’s hard to believe she was wearing those same earrings just over a year ago.
Most every evening, just before dinner, I wander over to the neighbors’ yard to retrieve Vic. He still sits outside her sliding glass door, waiting on his ‘naba’ to open her door.
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Ferris Robinson is the author of three children’s books, “The Queen Who Banished Bugs,” “The Queen Who Accidentally Banished Birds,” and “Call Me Arthropod” in her pollinator series “If Bugs Are Banished.” “Making Arrangements” is her first novel and is available in paperback and on Kindle. “Dogs and Love - Stories of Fidelity” is a collection of true tales about man’s best friend. She is the editor of The Lookout Mountain Mirror and The Signal Mountain Mirror.
Ferris Robinson