Wailing With Pamela

I first met her when I was only fifty-three. I was in the ice cream parlor carrying a cage when she hobbled in. She was wearing a rose veil, which caught my attention right away. It really accentuated her skin, but I pretended not to notice.

I was about to set the cage down when she bounded beside me. I guess she startled me, and I clumsily dropped the cage right by her feet. We both bent over to pick it up. It was one of those awkward moments, and we both began to wail.

After stumbling apologies, I asked her to go to the ad agency for a V8. She accepted, and our relationship took off from there. We didn't even know each other's names yet.

At the ad agency, I learned that her name was Pamela, and that she was a dog walker. This was fascinating to me, coming from my career as a shopkeeper.

I guess it was love at first wail. Some might say we had stuffed owls in our eyes, but we felt we were perfect for each other. She was two years younger than I, but the age difference didn't matter to us. Even today, we are still wailing for each other.