A Memory

Welcome to this memory. I told it to a friend this evening. It made us laugh, so now I tell you.

While on the path train I told a friend, S, that my college experience is nearly at it's end. And what do thoughts of the end do, but make one think of how it begun.

At the beginning I was caught between Culinary school or studying psychology at some university. So, I went visiting schools. A few days before the Art Institute's open house I purchased a puppy, a Chihuahua. And since my parents had no idea of their new pet, and I could not find anyone to watch him for the day, the obvious thing to do was to bring him along.

Baby was a tiny thing then, he weighed a pound or two, so I just put him in a compartment in my purse. The first half of the tour we walked about undetected. When we got to the sausage making class room, Baby started to make all types of funny noises. I tried to ignore the accusing looks, yet when the Chef asked if everything was okay it was time to excuse myself.

As I sat in the lobby cooking up my next plan, a suited man approached and asked why I wasn't on the tour. At this point I took Baby out of my purse and said, "This is why." I explained that I didn't have anyone to watch him and that I also did not want to miss the open house. At this Mr. Suit offered to watch Baby for me. I said okay and followed him to his office, the Dean's office.

While entering I said things like -- O my God, you're the Dean...You should have said something! He brushed my remorse aside and went on about his love for dogs and that he wouldn't mind to dote on Baby while I completed the tour.

Ha. So I did. And when I returned, I learned that Baby had urinated, a little here, a little there, and Mr. Dean was okay with it! O Mr. Dean, if you are still there, I have not forgotten your patience with me.

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On an introspective note: Eighteen year old Jane thought it okay to bring a puppy to a reasonably serious event. Twenty-four year old Jane knows not to. We're making progress.