photo by Paul Gach adapted by Tom Grotta
Tom’s Mom, Sandy, had a collie named Lance when she was a little girl. Her mother was a proper lady who didn’t cotton to dogs in the house, so Lance had his own house in the yard. In the deep Detroit winters, though, Sandy felt bad that Lance was outside. Sandy would sneak downstairs to let him in to sleep in the entryway. One sad day, the gardener told Sandy’s mother that he had found Lance dead in the yard. Her mother called the police, who told her to throw his body in the trash. That didn’t feel right to Sandy’s mother, so she called the local funeral home. The home agreed to pick his body the next day. Before the funeral home arrived, however, the gardener delivered miraculous news: Lance was not dead after all. When the gardener had arrived that morning, Lance was back to his old self, fully recovered and Sandy’s mother had to let the funeral home know that, like Mark Twain’s, reports of Lance’s death were greatly exaggerated!
Love it! I’m still laughing about turn around three times before lying down.