Epilogue Priscilla
Priscilla Approves of This Message
Next Winter
I wish someone would tell my mom she can’t carry a tune. If only I could talk, I would break the news to her. But right now, I don’t even care that she’s belting out Elvis at the top of her lungs because the long car ride can only mean one thing: We’re visiting my favorite person, Ford.
“Priscilla, do you think that Ford has anything fun planned for us this week?” Mom always asks me rhetorical questions.
We both knew the ring was coming; it was just a matter of time.
We’ve been coming out here so frequently that I don’t see why we don’t just live here by now.
I’d surely enjoy living in that nice, cozy chalet.
Especially now that the chimney has been fixed and my mom can start as many fires as she wants. . . with Ford’s help, of course.
Ford came out to see us last month. Well, he says he’s visiting my mom, but Ford and I both know that he can’t get enough of me, either.
Which is good, because Mom and I are a package deal.
He stayed at a fancy hotel, which was very much to my liking—it smelled like Chanel perfume and had art that rivaled a museum, because they took me with them to one of those, too.
I get to accompany all of their dates after that misunderstanding that me and my mom had.
Honestly, I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t bear the thought of being left at home while Mom and Ford were out gallivanting without me.
So, I might have “acted out,” as Mom calls it whenever I do something she doesn’t approve of.
All I did was replace my chew bone for one of her purse straps.
It was one I haven’t seen her carry in a while—and frankly, by the style and color, which was so last season.
I was doing her a favor. That purse was never going to help progress her relationship with Ford.
When she got home and discovered my assistance in her fashion choices, she ordered a deluxe stroller that looked like something a nanny for a billionaire might be pushing around.
It had gold wheels and a cozy, black carriage.
Very much up to my standards, I approved of it immediately.
Mom says God made me too cute for my own good.
And now, I get to tag along everywhere. I don’t miss a thing. Problem solved.
One day on Ford’s most recent trip to see us, he took us to lunch.
I was pleased that he ordered the steak—we both like ours cooked to medium rare temp, so he shared with me.
Afterward, we went for a stroll in the park.
It was getting very cold out, and I started to shiver since he hadn’t noticed me in a few minutes.
He immediately remedied the situation by taking me out of the stroller and suggested we go inside some shops.
I wished I could tell him my favorite couture brand is just down the street—Robbins I could tell she wanted to stop by my store, too, but suddenly, Ford suggested we go to the jewelers.
Fine, I thought my collar could use some rhinestones.
Then, Mom got all quiet and weird, which is only half like her.
He walked over to the ring case and asked Mom which one she liked the best.
I gotta hand it to her; despite some questionable purse choices, the woman can pick out a ring that makes me proud.
After quite a bit of awkward fumbling, she tried a few rings on and said that the emerald cut solitaire was her favorite.
I was so relieved that she didn’t say princess cut; after all, that is my signature diamond.
When we got home that night, Mom called everyone she knew to tell them that she’d just got home from ring shopping.
Half of them sounded a little too surprised, which I took as a personal insult.
Here I am, working my tail off to help charm this man so that he marries my mom and I can nap on that cozy couch of his in Wyoming forever. And they doubt my charm?
“We’re almost there, sweetie,” Mom says, popping my daydream bubble.
I feel the excitement washing over me as I sense Ford is near; I can almost smell the hints of hay on him.
My tail is wagging faster and faster as we pull into the driveway of the chalet next door to his.
I look up and see him! Ford is walking over to the door to greet us!
After he greets my mom with a kiss, I let out a whine. Where’s my kiss on the head? Finally, he comes over to my side of the vehicle and plucks me out of my car seat. Reunited at last.
When we walk into the chalet, Mom makes a big deal that it’s decorated to the nines for Christmas.
It appears that Ford has put up a freshly cut fir tree, and it’s covered in beautiful lights.
After some detective work, I find the tree has a wonderful water bowl for me below it.
There are also a few presents scattered about—if he has the sense that I think he does, many of these will be for me.
“Merry Christmas, Priscilla,” Ford says as he hands me a present and says I can open it whenever I please. I stick my head in the bag and smell a high thread count outfit. I’m pleased.
That night, as he is in our chalet for dinner—as in the same one he always puts us up in—he says he has a surprise for Mom. I look up, noticing I am not included. Is there anything I can chew in the general vicinity? Mom asks him what it is, but he says she has to wait.
Later, Mom runs upstairs to get ready. We are going on a winter stroll tonight. Mom got me a heated bed for the stroller so I will stay cozy, but I’d prefer to just be in Ford’s jacket. Keeping him wrapped around my paw, where he belongs.
“I have a secret,” he whispers in my ear. I look up at him and wag. Yes? What is it? I wish I could speak. Instead, I let out a small bark.
“Tonight is the night. I’m proposing at the gazebo.
It’s covered in those little twinkle lights, and a woman with a harp is going to risk the cold air to play a little song.
What do you think?” Yeehaw! I think. I’ve successfully charmed this man into marrying my mom!
But he doesn’t stop there. “I’m thinking of giving her these plane tickets, too.
What do you think?” He pulled out an envelope that contained some paper that I’m assuming are tickets.
I don’t know. I may be a pampered pooch, but I still can’t read.
He read my mind. “Two first-class tickets to Italy. And you get to come, too. If she says yes, that is,” he laughs under his breath.
If only he knew how much Mom was praying for this day to happen. Then again, I think he does.
When Mom comes walking down the stairs, she looks like she is walking out of a ski catalog.
She has the snow pants that look like leggings—I cringe to remember they have stirrups at the bottom.
If only I could give her some advice: Please Mom, do not remove your shoes in his presence.
A white turtleneck makes her complexion even more glowing.
Soft makeup on her cheeks and a fuzzy hat.
She really does look beautiful. I love my mom.
“Wow,” Ford says, agreeing with me. “You look amazing.” He stands, taking me with him.
“Thank you,” she says, walking towards us. They kiss again, which I am ready to get on with the night. Thankfully, she is thinking the same thing. “Are we ready to go?” Ford nods, placing me in the stroller. Um, are you forgetting something, darling?
“Priscilla just needs her coat,” my mom says, realizing the problem immediately.
Ford nods, quick to rectify the situation, and puts me in my winter coat.
And off we go, me in my luxury carriage that glides through the snowy landscape, Mom and my future dad, with his arm linked in hers, as we venture off to the gazebo to start our future as a family.
“We love because he first loved us,” 1 John 4:19. And under the twinkling lights of Sage Mountain with a fresh blanket of sparkling snow, love had only just begun.