In Which I Am Pricked By A Pin And Saved By A Dog

“Ouch,” whispered Meo. That’s what I had wanted to say, but of course, I couldn’t let my speaking voice be heard. Yes, Meo had pricked herself with needle, but just a bit ago she had stabbed me with a pin. I’m sure she didn’t know what she had done. I’m confident that she is not aware of my feelings. If she was, I’m sure she would have felt very bad indeed, but there again I cannot let her know that I to have feelings, very sensitive ones at that.

Meo was at it again…making me another dress. Well, I guess a doll can never have too many dresses, hats, aprons and such. However, I would simply love to have a nice warm sweater during the wet cold spring we are having. Last night I heard the man on the big screen say that it would be below normal again today. I’m not sure what normal means but it seems that my old pegs are feeling the damp and cold of the northwest a little more than normal this spring.

But back to Meo and her busy fingers; it had all started this morning. Still dressed in her Mickey Mouse pajamas, she had walked down the stairs with that look in her eye. I recognized that look when she picked up her scissors and began cutting the fabric that was to be my newest piece of clothing. It was a sort of far-away, dreamy, foggy look. She has often walked down the stairs in the morning with that look in her eye. I do think she must have dreams. Probably dreams of yet another dress and just how she is going to set in the sleeves or maybe add that just perfect piece of trim.

So as she once again removed my clothes and arranged her sewing tools on the dining room table, I braced my self for a day of pins and needles and near nakedness.

Periodically she would pick up her steaming hot cup of coffee and take a long refreshing slurp. I must say I was happy when one time she placed the cup down next to me. The warmth from that hot cup of liquid pleasantly warmed my body and soon I was feeling rather sleepy. When I awoke from a mid-morning nap it was to the sound of Meo’s sewing machine in the other room.

Later that day, after Meo had dressed in her day clothes and was starting to put the final touches to her newest creation, I began to wonder just how I might look in my new dress. Nearby some of my wardrobe hung on little wire hangers.

I must confess I always feel fairly pleased that I should have so many pretty things to wear. I guess Meo thinks being but a humble little wooden doll does not prevent one from being well dressed. At that moment my mind was set in motion considering how one day I might thank her. Little did I know that soon I would be even more indebted to a dog that Meo and her rolling-eyed husband named Grover.

Grover is one of two dogs that share this space with Meo and her rolling-eyed husband. He has always seemed to me to be the friendlier of the two yet both strike fear in me especially when they run about and bark, which they seem to do a lot of. I do remember hearing them referred to as “yappers” by one of the visiters that often stop by. At this very moment the smallest one they named Zoe was barking fiercely at a young boy passing by on the sidewalk outside our door. Her piercing yelp was very loud indeed.

Just now though Meo seem so involved in her sewing project it looked as if she was successfully ignoring Zoë’s yipping. Often, when Meo worked she would became what people refereed to as one-track meaning that she would forget some things, sometimes very important things. I think that might explain the sign on her cooking stove that reads “Meo, Turn off the stove!”

It was but a few moments later that Meo’s cell phone began to ring. Meo, in a mad dash to answere it, carelessly placed me on the back of her leather sofa right next to Grover. Grover seemed to ignore me at first. But soon, to my discussed, he started licking my arms and legs. As luck would have it while he licked I was slowly being pushed headfirst down behind the cushions of the couch. Further and further I slid until only my feet could be seen. I could hear the barely audible sound of Meo’s cheerful voice as she talked away on the phone to what I think was her daughter about her grandchildren. Then just when I was sure she would come back to retrieve me she ran up the stairs to talk with her rolling-eyed husband about something which I’m sure she thought of utmost importance. So here I was, hidden from view, upside down reeking of Grover slobber, lost to the world save Grover. It may have been the lack of clean air but my mind began to drift and soon I was deep in thoughts of what seemed like long ago… “another sofa: this time horse hair….the sound of little girl voices, did I remember one saying…” I slowly began to drift off.

Then my thoughts were interrupted. I could plainly hear Meo’s voice. Meo was franticly yelling, “OH, MY GOSH!!! WHERE IS MY HITTY?!!!!” I am sure she was near to tears. Soon Grover frantically began digging into the space between the cushion and the couch. Then began the tugging and pulling, he was surprising gentle. When at last I could see the light of day, I understood that a rescue was underway. After pulling me free Grover sat quietly watching Meo as she became increasingly distressed.

Then, to my amazement, over walked her rolling-eyed husband. He picked me up, “Honey, Is this what your looking for?” he asked, with a smile.

Me in my new dress.