The word makes a lump swell in my throat.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it's because I realize more every day what a treasure of a mother I have.  Maybe it's because I miss her so much.  Maybe it's both and a million other things.  Yep.  That's it.  I'm sure of it.

I have so many memories of mom.  I'd like to just start at the beginning and share every one I can think of but I'm afraid I'd rush and not do them justice.  I think, instead, I'll start with Boozer.

When I was fifteen, we moved into the "Triangle" between the Bakersfield cutoff, HWY 14, and HWY 58 in Mojave.  We lived in an 18ft travel trailer, hauled our water, and lived without electricity.  When the move was complete, I immediately wanted a dog.  I loved dogs.  They usually took to mom though.  I guess her being home with the dog all day while I was at school didn't help my cause.

At this time in my life, I'd made a new friend.  Roger.  We rode his motorcycle everywhere and sat around his house playing with his pesky sisters.  He wasn't a "boyfriend" in the traditional sense.  He was a boy, who happened to be a friend.  A good one.  There is a reason for this information.  Roger lived on Kemper street.  I loved the sound of that name.  Kemper.  It had a scampering frivolity to it that appealed to me.  Hey, if mom can love the sound of the word, "heifer", I can love Kemper.

So we found an Australian/Retriever mix and brought the dog home.  I started to name her Kemper.  It didn't seem to fit.  I was so disappointed but promptly tried Mitzi.  That's a good name for her.  And it was.  For three whole days.

Enter Aunt Marilyn, Uncle Lon, a motorhome, a trench, lots of beer cans, and a curious puppy.  Mitzi, being the silly pup she was, found the trash sack with all the beer cans.  She lapped up every spare drop and then entertained Aunt Marilyn with her funny little drunken side step swaggle.  I  have a picture of that somewhere.  I'll try to find it.  Aunt Marilyn teased the pup calling her a "little Boozer" and the name stuck.

Mom always had a special relationship with our dogs, as I mentioned earlier but she and Boozer were a pair.  Mom would sit in the folding chairs out in front of our trailer and point south.  "Clear the area Boozer" and off Boozer would go.  That dog would run in a circle, about thirty feet from mom as the center sending birds, chipmunks, lizards and jackrabbits as far away from us and Boozer as they could get.  Mom would laugh, praise the dog,and scratch behind her ears.  Boozer loved that.

Mom kept Boozer in bandanas around the neck. That dog wouldn't have been Boozer if there hadn't been a cool bandana flapping in the self-generated breeze as she raced to send all nearby "critters" from the area.

Then there was the welcoming horn greeting.  We drove down several dirt roads to get to our land.  As we neared the closest corner,  mom would start honking her horn and Boozer would come running.  Mary Kate Dannahur would have been so very disgusted.  "I'm not a woman to honk and come a-runnin!"   Boozer had no such scruples.

Now here in my story I  have to interject a sideline.  You see, this story is proof positive that I am not the most intelligent of people.  You see, I worked on my homework all the way home from school.  (almost a 30 minute drive).  It was hard on the dirt roads but I could read and circle multiple choice at least.  So every afternoon, in spite of knowing what was coming and knowing how stupid I was being, I'd be sitting there, engrossed in my homework and apparently deaf to the honking warning of what was about to happen.

Boozer raced to meet the car.  Mom would barely slow down and Boozer would jump through the window onto my lap.  I usually was able to pull my PACE out of the way before she landed all over my schoolwork but usually isn't always and sometimes I had some interesting dog prints on the paper.  Looking back, I should have told my Supervisor that "My dog did my homework, that's why I failed the checkup!"

That dog loved riding the rest of the way to the trailer where mom would refill the water bowl, give her a treat, and I'd finish my homework.  Those were some really good days.