I used to go to church with an elderly lady, that shall remain nameless. She “played” a big role in the church and was a very long term member. She became widowed along the way a few years after we moved to Bertram.
With losing her husband, the level of cantankerousness got worse and worse. For whatever reason when she would get mad and quit the church, I would be able to go spend a little time with her and get her to come back. I’m not sure how that job fell to me, other than there wasn’t anyone else willing to do it.
The real down side to making those visits was the cats. Cats everywhere. They didn’t always have a way to get outside to take care of there “necessary” things, if you know what I mean. But knowing she was a lonely widow, I’d stop in to check on her, even if she wasn’t mad at the church.
Somewhere early on in getting to know her, I had commented on how much I liked the pralines she would always make at Christmas time.
As a kind gesture for being willing to come and visit her, she started making me my own huge tin of pralines. I noticed one day that candies were much more durable and didn’t fall apart as in years past.
Careful examination showed there to be ample amounts of cat hair reinforcement in those candies. Needless to say I stopped eating them and didn’t even try re-gifting them.
As I returned for subsequent visits it was easy to tell why so much hair was appearing in the pralines. There wasn’t a fur free square inch in that whole house. I guess with her failing eyesight, she just didn’t realize where things had gotten. For that matter her sense of smell must have failed also, from too much urine inhalation.
Year after year that tin of pralines would always show up with my name on them. I finally had to tell a little white lie about the doctor had taken me completely off of sugar.
Anyway, it didn’t matter because she finally threw a fit one day that nothing was going to cause her to return to church. I didn’t even try.
Those tantrums were coming a way too often and seemed like we were to a point of no return.
Even now, all these years later, when I get one of those sugary pralines at my favorite Mexican Food Place, I always break them open and have a good look before I bite into it.