The Magic Room

“I’ll be back soon” Mom chirps as she heads out the door. “Be good.”

No problemo, I bark, tail wagging. You know I’ll be here when you get back. Besides. When am I ever NOT good? (Well, there was that one unfortunate incident with The Powder Puff and a can of unsupervised red paint. Nobody’s perfect.)

Meantime, I’ll just stay here and guard the house. Say hello to the neighbors. Do my puppy eyes thing on the postal carrier (always good for a free treat). I will also protect my turf from stray felines, menacing deer and sketchy-looking plastic bags.

Now, let’s see. Where was I? Oh yeah. Mom and that magic room. The place she wanders off to with an armload of books to do that “reading” thing. It has her favorite reading chair. Lots of books. And a “Summer Reading Program.” Whatever that is.

Mom goes to this magic place a lot. Even when it’s not summer. But dogs aren’t allowed inside.

What’s up with that?

But Mom always seems to feel better when she’s been there. More settled. Or more susceptible to the puppy eyes thing.

It can go either way.

She talks about visiting “exotic places” like Rome. China. The South Pole. Hackensack, New Jersey. Or meeting dead-ish people like Laura Ingalls Wilder. Jane Austen. Mary Poppins, David Copperfield and Peter Pan. All without ever leaving that room. Or our zip code (got that from my favorite postal carrier).

Yes siree, Lassie! That book room thingy must have some special magic indeed!

Someone say, “Dinner”?

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