Kramer’s Mother’s Day
	I recognized my mother’s handwriting.  My own address was in the upper left corner of the envelope.  The postmark was Falls Church, Virginia.  The Hallmark crown was embossed on the back.
	The card was an illustration of a dog and dog bowl with the caption, “From Mom’s best friend.”  “Happy Mother’s Day to the best doggy-mommy ever!” was the inside greeting with “Much love and many bow-wows, Kramer.”  Kramer, my 20-pound schnauzer, usually only sent me birthday cards.
	It was one mail day before Mother’s Day and I forgot.  I had not seen a paper or turned my TV on in weeks due to my work schedule, so I missed the retail reminders.  There was no time to mail my 68-year-old mother a card and she didn’t check her email often enough to search for a free e-greeting. 
This was not the year to forget.  She had her right breast removed at the beginning of the year when a small, rice-size lump was discovered.  She thought it was just scar tissue from the breast reduction she had twenty years prior.  Rather than get a second opinion, she elected to get it over with as quickly as possible and “just cut the thing off.”  
I’d have to call and thank mom for sending the dog card.  But, before I did that, I immediately called my brother half-hoping he screwed up and didn’t send mom a card either.  Then we would be equally forgetful offspring.  My sister-in-law answered the phone.
	“You won’t believe what your crazy mother-in-law did now,” I said, still laughing from reading the card.
	“Oh god.  What?” she asked.
	We both chuckled as I described the card and salutation.  I then discovered my brother and the real grandkids sent their Mother’s Day cards a week ago.  I guess with a wife, my brother had become more organized.
	That same day as I was leaving work for the weekend, a coworker told me to have a happy Mother’s Day.  Three hours later, the electric meter reader knocked on my door, took the reading in the basement, played with Kramer and left wishing me a happy Mother’s Day.  Why couldn’t these reminders come sooner? 
	I mentally prepared my irresponsibility acceptance speech and dialed my mother’s phone number the evening of Mother’s Day.  I was sure she’d understand with my busy schedule, I didn’t have time to select a proper Hallmark greeting.
	She answered the phone, “Happy Mother’s Day.”
	“This is your slack first born,” I responded.  “Happy Mother’s Day.  I forgot it was Mother’s Day until you sent the greeting card from Kramer.  Thanks.”
	“What are you talking about?  That wasn’t from me,” mom said.
“Oh, come on mom, I recognize your handwriting,” I said.
“I didn’t send that, Kramer did.  Kramer called me and said he was a little busy and didn’t have time to find the right card for his mom and told me to select something and send it to you,” she said.
	“Oh, right mom.  Now that would explain why you put my return address on the envelope with your postmark.  Now I get it.  Well, I’ll let Kramer know you selected the perfect greeting for me.”
	It was nice to see mom had her sense of humor back.  We laughed a little then she proceeded to tell me she had been melancholy recently.  She was told she would have to have radiation.  She began perusing the adopt-a-dog ads looking for unconditional love.  
	“I’ve decided that when I baby sit Kramer next month while you are on vacation, I’m going to adopt him,” mom announced.
	“What?” I asked.
	“He’s getting old and I’m getting old.  I want to keep him,” she said.
	“Why mom.  You’ve been saying for a few years that you like being free so that you can move into any retirement community,” I said.
	“I know, but I just want a dog I know and a dog I can trust.  I’m too old to deal with a puppy.  I want a dog that won’t out live me.  Kramer stays home alone all day waiting for your dog walker.  I can give him a better retirement plan,” mom said, her voice cracking as she held back the tears.
	I contemplated this proposal.  Mom and Kramer had similar hobbies:  naps, snacks, walks, and car rides.  Kramer has been my special little guy for years.  He lived true to his Seinfeld name sake; Kramer was a funky hipster doofus.  He made me laugh and was a great companion. He would be hard to part with, but my mom sounded so desperate and serious about this, I couldn’t say no.  Kramer has always been a city dog, but at mom’s he’d have an acre of backyard inside the D.C. beltway.  They could enjoy their golden years together.
	“OK, Mom.  You can have Kramer.  But you have to commit to keeping him.  He is going to be hard to part with, but it isn’t good for him to go back and forth either,” I said.
	“I want him.  And if you want to send me your saved dog walker’s fee as his allowance, I’m sure Kramer would like that,” she added.
	“Mom, happy Mother’s Day.  Sorry I didn’t send you a card, but I never thought I’d be giving you Kramer as a gift,” I said.
	After I hung up, I had guilty empty nest fantasies.  I could go away for last minute weekend trips without finding a kennel with a vacancy.  I could stay overnight at my boyfriend’s apartment.  I could eat steak without sad brown eyes begging.  My mother would soon have a great, broken-in dog to keep her company and take her mind off her health.  Kramer had seen me through tough times – divorce, my father’s death, various layoffs, and my own breast lump scare.  He’s the best dog I’ve ever had.  It would be hard, but I needed to let him help mom through her difficult times.
	With the exchange of one miniature schnauzer, my mother became a mother again, and I became the good, childless daughter.  Happy Mother’s Day.	
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(1020 words)