My Life With Edna

Remembering Edna

Tossed ashore by hurricane winds
About as appealing as a whore in depends,
Your battered hull lies scattered about,
Like a roughshod bag lady with a lopsided pout…

… With a bad case of gout…

… Like a dude without clout…

Each time Will tried to write his epic poem, it came out all wrong. He was suffering from the worst case of writers block he ever had. A pile of crumpled papers filled the trash bin beside his writing desk, and the floor was littered with Reeses cup wrappers and empty convenience store coffee cups. He sighed heavily and ripped the paper from the typewriter, crunching it together and aiming toward the only trash can in his area that wasn’t full to the brim, the reeking bin by the phone in the kitchen. His aim fell just short of a three pointer, and he decided to leave it there, as he ripped open another Reeses cup and nibbled the ridged chocolate edges.

Will Abernathy was an aspiring writer, and a professional bachelor. He preferred the old electric Smith-Corona to the computer; the rhythm of the metal letter print heads hitting the paper was somehow cathartic.

He stared out his motel room turned cheap apartment complex window and the enormous, ugly boat that had blown ashore with the wrath of the last hurricane. Will resented this bleached red wooden monstrosity, laying there all broken and useless. The hurricane winds had somehow spared the aprartment complex. If the complex had been destroyed, his renters insurance would have allowed him to get a better apartment, perhaps a new typewriter.

He cleared his throat, trying to bring up the largest wad of sputum imaginable. With all the force he could muster, he ejected the weighty glob from his pursed lips, hoping it would hit the wreckage. Instead, an aberrant breeze carried it to the next door neighbor’s window, where it landed with an audible splat. “Thank God that old geezer ain’t home!” he said to himself, and went to the kitchen to scrounge for snacks.

Finding nothing but a jar of pickles, some five-day-old pizza and a box of baking soda, he decided he better emerge from his cocoon and buy some groceries. Power had been restored after a week, and his refrigerator was up and running, as well as the musty smelling window air conditioner. He left the apartment complex, not locking his door.

He was still hoping for some kind of insurance kick back, be it from theft or disaster, but no one took the bait, so to speak.

He glanced to his right as he walked along the debris-strewn blacktop driveway and saw the boat, mocking him. How he hated that freaking boat! He walked up to the side and ran his hand along the weather worn hull. A jagged splinter thrust itself up into his hand, and he jumped back, spewing a string of obscenities that would have made Andrew Dice Clay proud. “Touche’ you lousy **&^%% ing whore of a boat!” he screamed.

Through the midst of his screams he heard a sound. Tiny, tentative, like the sigh of a sleeping baby. The sound was so subtle, that it jolted him out of his rage. He walked around the port side of the shattered ship and looked at the side, where the words “Easy Edna” were scrawled in untidy black paint, the text somewhat dippy and skewed, as if a child had painted the letters. Will heard the sound again. He looked into the boat and got a shock. The odor reached him first, and he retched, barely holding down the nothing he had eaten for breakfast. There in the hull, hiding from the fierce sun lay a medium-sized shaggy mongrel. It was obvious she had given birth to a litter of puppies, but hadn’t survived very long afterward. Six of her pups sprawled beside her, equally lifeless. Will felt an immediate stab of guilt for getting so angry a few minutes prior.

He went back into the apartment and found the only thing that might be suitable to give the dog and her puppies a decent burial, a shovel. It was one of those folding camping shovels, and it was not very big. He spent the better part of the afternoon digging a three feet hole beside the ship, and he gently placed the mom and her six pups inside, covering them with earth. He was about to go inside to wash himself from head to toe with heavily scented soap, when he heard the sound again. It was coming from the boat. He peered through a broken board and saw something fuzzy trapped between the ships wheel and what was left of the front deck. It was mewling weakly. He gently lifted the broken wheel and lifted the palm-sized creature to safety.

It was a puppy, barely clinging to life.

The puppy was female, and the only name that deemed proper was Edna. The pup had wavy fur, and brown patches on its ears and around its eyes. He could tell it probably had beagle bloodlines. He wrapped the puppy in a bandana that was holding his greasy hair, and put it in his fanny pack. He walked to the nearest store, which was about a mile away, stopping now and again to check on little Edna.

Unfortunately, the store had a very small pet care section, and he had no car to drive the ten mile stretch to the nearest pet store. He bought some goats milk, because he had read somewhere that goats milk was the nearest to mothers milk for kittens and puppies. He hoped it was true. With a few dozen pot pies, some chips and dip, a Florida lottery ticket and instant coffee, he made the trek back to his shabby apartment. Edna nursed very little at first, but as she adjusted to the feel of the hard plastic medicine dropper, she ate ravenously. Within a week little Edna had tripled her size and was beginning to open her eyes.

One day, while lazing in front of the television and petting the now clothes basket sized and growing dog, Will’s phone rang. It was his landlord. Will began to panic because he thought the landlord was calling about the dog.

He was wrong. The landlord informed him that his owners insurance had paid for the minor damage on the apartment complex, and that he (the landlord) was going to begin renovations by the end of the month.

“And your reason for telling me is…” Will questioned.

“I am telling you this because I am going to gut the place and turn it into condos. You have one month to leave the residence, no exceptions.”

Will was silent on the other end. “Hello? Hello, Mr. Abernathy?” yelled the landlord

“Yeah yeah, I hear you. Out in a month. Wonderful.” Will took the phone and threw it against the wall, where it shattered in a myriad of plastic circuits.

Edna looked at him, her head cocked to the side. She was nearly thirty pounds and growing. Her fur grew long in patches and short in others, and her muzzle was surrounded by a prickly beard of aberrant hairs. One of her ears stood up , and the other folded down. She was quite a melting pot of breeds.

Will sat down on the couch and put his arm around her. “Edna old girl, It looks like we’re gonna be moving; whether we can afford it, or not.”

He glanced at the unscratched lottery ticket laying underneath the peeling coffee table. Edna looked at him, whining softly, then looked at the lottery ticket. “Oh alright, Edna, if you insist.” he chided the dog “I never win those things anyway, but it can’t hurt…”

Two minutes later, and all the little pots of gold scratched off, Will stared at the ticket in disbelief. He had just won three thousand dollars.

He looked at Edna. “Dang, girl, that’s a lot of money, but it’s not nearly enough to re-locate!” Edna cocked her head again and whined. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I am right.”

Edna whined again and put her paw on his left arm.

“Oh alright, perhaps we will go for a walk, and worry about this later.”

He passed the Easy Edna on his way down the driveway; Edna the dog snapping at mosquitoes and pulling at the leash, making herself gag. He didn’t resent the boat as much as he used to, the ugly pile of bleached paint gave him a companion, after all.

Half a mile down the road, in front of a boarded up house, he saw a pick up truck for sale The price was 2,000 dollars. Quickly doing the math in his head, he figured it would be at least $2,200 after licensing and insurance fees, leaving him with $800 to put toward moving. Great. How the heck was he supposed to get another apartment, especially one that allowed dogs, for that? 800 would barely cover half of a security deposit! He went to the party store to cash his lottery ticket, and put the rather large wad of bills inside his fanny pack.

He found a working pay phone, and called the number. An elderly lady answered the phone.

“Hello?” she said, in her trembling old ladies voice.

“Um, yea… I am interested in the pick up truck you had for sale?”

“Sure, the price is two thousand dollars, I hope it isn’t too much.” Will thought for a minute, that the truck was a great bargain at that price, but he could probably chew the old lady down some on the price. He was just going to do that when he felt Edna pawing at his leg. He looked down at her. She had that look in her eyes again. He cupped his hand over the phone. “Okay, okay, I will pay the full price, sheesh!” he whispered to the funny-looking mutt.

The lady told him her address which wasn’t too far away, and he walked a few more blocks. He stood still, his mouth agape, as he stared at the crumbling façade of the Sunset Palms Nursing Home and Hospice.

He tied Edna to one of the termite infested pillars and went inside. His nostrils were immediately assaulted by the odor of too many residents, not enough care staff. Trying to keep his chicken pot pie down, he approached the reception desk and rang the bell. A frazzled looking middle-aged woman slid the glass window open and said “Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Um, I’m looking for Isabelle Cardona, is she available?”

The woman knitted her eyebrows in confusion, “Why do you want to see Mrs. Cardona?”

“Well, she had a truck for sale, and I wanted to buy it, I have to move in a few weeks and I need some transportation.”

The overweight receptionist shifted a little and Will could make out the name on her nametag., Ann.

“Mister…?” Ann fished for his last name.

“Abernathy, Will Abernathy.”

“Mr. Abernathy, Mrs. Cardona is in wing three, Hospice, room 38”

“Thank you, Ann!” Will smiled at her, genuinely happy to get an answer. Ann smiled back, and for a brief moment her frazzled countenance almost seemed beautiful.


Will found room 38 and went inside. There, sitting up in the bed was the most frail human Will had ever seen. She must have been less than eighty pounds, her sallow skin pulled tight over her bones like a living skeleton. She was wearing plastic horn rimmed glasses that seemed several sizes too big for her face. Her hair was neatly put up in a bun, but one strand had found its way down, and it reached her waist. She was wearing a faded pink night gown, and her gnarled hands were holding a rather large book. It was the latest installment of the Harry Potter books, the Half-Blood-Prince. Will stood there, a smiling like he hadn’t smiled in some time, watching her read the book, her face a mask of rapt absorption. “So you’re a Potter fan?” Will said, startling Isabelle slightly, making her drop her book.

“Well, it keeps my mind off things!” she smiled at him, surprisingly with a mouthful of healthy teeth. “Come, pull up a seat, I just had some of the worst coffee brought up, would you like a cup?”

“Don’t mind if I do!” he chuckled, and sat in a rickety folding chair by her hospital bed.

“Wow, some place you got here!” Will smiled lopsidedly.

The walls were festooned with pictures of people and children, and several vases of flowers sat on the desks in her room, some fresher than others. A half deflated mylar balloon bobbed absentmindedly against the stucco ceiling, “I Grandma” emblazoned on the front in large purple letters. An I.V. bag full of amber liquid hung from a metal stand, attached to her impossibly skinny arm with a tube and tape. Will stared at the bag, mesmerized by the steady drip of the fluid into the plastic chamber. “Never mind that, young man, It’s just embalming fluid, they wanted to get a head start!” Isabelle looked at him, a deadpan expression on her face.

For a second or two, Will stared in shock, then reality opened the door in his mind as Isabelle threw her head back and laughed heartily. Will joined her, and it took quite a while before the two were done laughing. He really liked this lady. Wiping her eyes, Isabelle decided to let him in on her story.

“It is bone cancer. I have decided not to have resuscitation in case I go into arrest, or something. But I refused Chemo. Hell, I figured at my age, the Chemo would kill me faster than the bone cancer would.
It isn’t too terribly painful, yet, and they tell me when it becomes unbearable, there will be a lot of morphine handy.”

Will looked at her, wishing he had half the bravery that she did.

“And that yellow junk dripping in my arm is electrolytes and vitamins. Lord only knows why they give me vitamins, it’s not like it’s going to make me get up and dance a jig!”

“Mrs. Cardona?” Will began.

“Isabelle, I insist!” she corrected him.

“Okay, Isabelle,” he laughed “About the truck.”

“Oh yeah. That. Two-thousand dollars, and she is yours. Very low mileage. I bought her used from an elderly couple just after the hurricane. They needed money to fix up their place, and since none of them could drive… well…”

Will looked at her, his mouth slightly slack.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Isabelle countered “This old gal is pretty old herself, how is HER eyesight?”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” Will blushed slightly.

“Sure you were lad, no punches here! But I won’t hold it against you. No, my eyesight is surprisingly keen for an eighty-two year old woman! And I can drive with the best of them. I have never had a traffic ticket.”

“But why would you need a truck?” Will asked.

“I am kind of a do-it-yourselfer, you might say. My house was damaged in the hurricane, and I needed something to haul what I knew would be a lot of scrap wood and shingles. I am pretty handy with a hammer, you know. Well, a week after I got the truck, my daughter Ella came to visit. I was taking a walk with her and my knees just gave out. Splat, down on the sidewalk I went. Ella took me to the doctor to make sure nothing was broken, and that’s when they found the cancer. Wasn’t but a month before I ended up in here, unable to walk or take care of myself.” Isabelle wiped her eyes.

Isabelle blew her nose and continued, “My daughter and her husband live in Cleveland and they never had the chance to rebuild my house. They were too busy trying to settle my estate and get me in a good hospice. They visit as often as they can, but being so far away…”

“This place seems a little… understaffed.”

“Yes, young man it does, but it is my home. It is what my Medicare pays for, I never want to be a burden to my children. I do wish I could have worked on my house though.” Isabelle grew quiet and she stared out her small window, a little too interested in the sparrow by the birdfeeder. “But enough about me, what brings you here, walking deserted neighborhoods, looking for cheap trucks?”

“I was taking my dog for a walk, I needed some fresh air. I was told by my landlord I needed to get out in a month, because he is turning the apartment complex into cheap condos.”

“Ouch.”

“You’re not kidding. I am a writer, and money has never been something I’ve had a lot of. I was going to the liquor store to cash a winning lotto ticket, and passed your truck. The rest is history. I’m not likely to find any place within walking distance that is inhabitable, so I had to break down and get a car.”

“How much money was the lottery ticket worth?” asked Isabelle.

“Three grand. Not going to have much left over after I buy the truck, though!”

Isabelle’s eyes sparkled. “Then the truck is free!”

“No, Mrs. Cardona!” stammered Will, “I insist on paying for the truck; it wouldn’t be right for me to take it for nothing.”

“Oh, you WILL pay for the truck, Will, just not with cash!”

Will looked at her, confused.

“What good is money going to do me now? I can’t take it with me, and my property isn’t going to be worth much unless it gets fixed up. Why don’t you fix the place for me, and you can keep the three grand AND the truck! Not to mention the fact you can live there till you find a place. Just don‘t turn it into a bachelor pad!”

“Isabelle, I couldn’t possibly…”

“I INSIST. It isn’t often one gets a golden opportunity to commit a random act of kindness!” She smiled a wonderful toothy smile.

Will Abernathy, for once in his life, was speechless. This morning had started out so horridly, and now, his whole life had taken a positive turn. “But what about my dog? Edna is my sole companion, not many women want a man without a steady income, no matter how big his…brain is.”

“Edna is her name?” Isabelle chuckled “Odd name for a dog! Yes, she can stay. Is she well trained?”

“Yep!” Will smiled, “She just LOVES the neighbors lawn. Seriously, she is so smart, and was outside trained at one month.”

“I wish I could see her, she sounds wonderful!”

“She is; a bit odd looking, but a wonderful dog.”

So began the odyssey of Will Abernathy. He moved out of the complex, taking nothing but his clothes and Edna. He figured anything Isabelle had to offer was better than this dump. He pried the boards from the windows and re glazed the panes, replacing several panes of glass in the process. He repaired the roof with scraps of shingles blown about, and the boards from the windows. There was a rather large hole in the back bedroom wall, and it needed a little more help than the simple ply board could afford. In the afternoons, he would visit Isabelle, who always kept a brave face. He could tell she was fading though, and it made him double his efforts to finish the house.

Late one afternoon he stood in the back yard of Isabelle’s house, his chin in his hand, contemplating what to do with that enormous hole in the side. Clean up efforts had taken most of the scrap wood away, and Will had scrounged up all he could possibly scrounge. He needed more lumber. Then a thought raced across his mind. Would the Easy Edna still be there by his old apartment? He and Edna hopped in the pick up truck and drove the half mile to his former residence. Re construction efforts were well underway, and he had to admit the run down complex was looking spiffy. The Easy Edna was still there, on her side, her boards strewn about like broken bones. Will let Edna off her chain. She frolicked about, snapping at the king sized mosquitoes. Will approached the construction foreman and asked him if they had any plans for the old boat.

“Ayuh, we were jus’ gonna discombobulate er and put er in that huge dumpster over yonder!”

“Do you mind If I take the lumber instead?” asked Will.

“Ayuh,” drawled the foreman, “don’t see why not, we’s jus goin’ to scrap er anyways.”

“Well, It may take me a few days.” said Will.

“Don’ matter to me much, anyhow, this job’s gonna take us at least a month! I‘ll make sure no one touches her. What would you want with such a tired old wreck anyhow?” the foreman questioned.

“Let’s just say, she did me a favor, and Now I am going to return it.” Will was starting to feel a sting behind his eyes, like he wanted to cry. He breathed it away.

It took three days and fourteen trips for Will to disassemble the Easy Edna, and he salvaged quite a large amount of usable lumber from the wreckage. Within a week, the wall was repaired, the only thing purchased was some nails and siding, which Isabelle paid for.

He continued his daily visits to the frail woman, some days seemed better than others. Isabelle had finally started the morphine drips, because her pain was becoming unmanageable. There were times when Will visited her, and she was so out of it, he just sat and held her hand for a while. He never let a day lapse without seeing her.

He had quite a bit of lumber left over, and he remembered in one of their conversations over the last few weeks that Isabelle loved plants, and the one thing that upset her the most about her property damage was the destruction of her green house. Will built another greenhouse, using the concrete slab from the other one as a template. The weathered red paint from Easy Edna’s hull made a perfect backyard addition. He used a bunch of neglected storm doors and windows from the storm cellar to construct the glass roof and louvered panels that would help control the temperature inside the greenhouse.

Edna had grown to roughly the size of a German Shepherd. She was over seventy pounds and not even a year old. She still had the odd, mixed look about her, and her puppy like behavior was still in full swing. It became a little difficult for Will to control her large tail, as it swept knickknacks off table tops, and her clumsy oversized feet constantly tipped her water bowl. Will made the heart wrenching decision to keep her outside, at least during the day. He constructed a large dog house from the remaining lumber. It was the same pinkish red of the greenhouse. Since there were no more shingles lying about, thanks to clean up efforts, he had to reverse and split the lumber to make a clapboard roof. His efforts paid off, the doghouse was beautiful; large, vented, and had a separate sleeping room for his darling Edna, along with sturdy holders for her dog dishes. In a fit of sentiment and whimsy, he salvaged the poorly painted Easy Edna plank and nailed it to the entrance of the doghouse.

Two days later, when the construction was over, and all the yard repaired, Will sat back to admire his work. He was sipping a glass of ice tea when his cellphone rang. It was Ann, from Sunset Palms. She sounded upset.

“Mr. Abernathy, this is Ann. Isabelle has taken a turn for the worse, and she has been asking for you.”

“Have you contacted her daughter?” Will asked, his eyes stinging with tears.

“Yes, but they won’t be here for another five hours, the flight was delayed.”

“I’ll be right there, I’m leaving right now!” Will chained Edna to her doghouse and hopped in the truck, speeding to the hospital.

When he got to the room, he was shocked. The once peaceful, in control woman now thrashed about on her bed, delirious with pain. Her eyes were bulging outward, the flesh around them swollen to capacity. “Will, you’re here, you’re here!” she whispered, as her thrashing subsided. She reached out her arms and he stepped into them. She hugged him tightly. “Where’s Ella? I want to see Ella!” she screamed as she clung tightly to him. A nurse came in and clicked a few buttons on her I.V. drip. She fell back on the pillow, relieved from the pain temporarily. Will held her hand and whispered as he smoothed her hair,

“She’s coming, Isabelle, she is on her way!”

Isabelle turned to him, and spoke through morphine numbed vocal chords, “Take me home, I want to meet Edna.”

“Take you home, Isabelle? Sweetie, this is the best place for you, all your nurses, and your medicine…”

He had barely finished when she grabbed the collar of his shirt with surprising strength , and growled,
“Take… Me… Home. I want to see my house, I want to meet Edna, I want to see my greenhouse. Please, Will, do this for me!”

Will was crying openly now and he looked up at the nurses questioningly. Ann came through the door and looked at Will. “If this is what she wants, this is what she gets. Girls, prepare an ambulance.” The nurses all looked at her as if she were an alien.

“DO it NOW!” Ann ordered, and the nurses turned to leave.

“NO!” Shouted Isabelle from her bed. “I want Will to take me, in the pickup truck. I refuse to leave here like I’m already dead!”

Ann looked at her and smiled. “Of course, Isabelle,” she comforted, “If you want to go in the truck, we will make sure you have your drips, and every…”

Ann was cut off by the dying woman “NO. No morphine, nothing. I want my last moments to be me. Nothing else no drugs, nothing, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!”

“Yes Ma‘am” complied Ann, and together she and Will lifted Isabelle into a wheel chair and rolled her to the truck.

Gently as possible, Will drove with Isabelle as she slipped in and out of consciousness. They finally arrived at the house and Isabelle came to. “Oh goodness, Will, It looks just like I pictured it would. Is that wonderful pink color from that boat you told me about?”

“Yes it is, hon.”

“When is Ella coming, she is going to miss her birthday party!”

“She will be here soon Isabelle, in plenty time for the party.” Will knew full well there was no party, but he wasn’t going to argue with Isabelle.

He got the wheelchair from the back of the truck and prepared to lift her into it.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO IN THAT INFERNAL CHAIR!” she wailed, and began to thrash around. Will picked her up and cradled her against his body, comforting her, and carried her inside.

“See, Isabelle, here are all your pictures, and your knickknacks, and most everything else, and your side window even got fixed, see?” He carried her around to the side of the house to show her the handiwork.

“You’re a good boy, William!” she patted his cheek. Will was startled. She had never called him that before.

Will carried her out the back door, and she gasped, tears forming in her eyes and rolling down her hollow cheeks. “My green house… My green house…” was all she could say.

Will sat her in the padded back yard swing and let her admire the greenhouse for a while, and he went to fetch Edna. Surprisingly, she didn’t lunge forward at the frail woman as he feared she might, but walked calmly up to her and laid her head in Isabelle’s lap. “This must be Edna. The woman who started it all!” Isabelle beamed down at Edna, stroking her silky ears. Isabelle still had a lot of morphine in her system and she dozed off. Edna stayed there with her, as if she knew what to do.

Edna and Isabelle stayed that way for over an hour, Will not having the heart to disturb either one of them. His cellphone rang again.

“Will, this is Ann again. How is she doing?”

“Right now, she’s sleeping, Edna is with her.”

“Well, Ella just called. Her flight just arrived and she is in a cab on her way. When I told her you had taken Isabelle back to her old house, she nearly had a stroke. I guess Isabelle never told her you had repaired the house.”

Will chuckled through his tears. “Yeah, that would have been an important detail.”

Thirty minutes later, Ella arrived at the house. Isabelle had woken up a short time ago, and she was moaning from the pain. Edna was still there, looking up at her with those amber eyes, comforting her.

Ella rushed to her mothers side and gathered her up in her arms.

“Mom, you little dickens, why aren’t you in the hospital? They told me you even refused to take morphine with you!” Ella tried to sound angry, but missed her goal by a few feet.

“Ella, you’re here! Just in time for the party, look! That nice boy Will and his friend Edna came too!”

“Yes mom, they did.” She pulled her mother close as she rasped deeply in her chest.

Edna still had her head in Isabelle’s lap and Will was sitting by her, holding her hand.

“Is It okay to go home now?” she asked her daughter.

“Yes, Mom, you can go home.” Isabelle took one long, rattling breath and she was still.

Edna still had her head in Isabelle’s lap when the silent ambulance came to take her to the funeral home. Ella thanked Will for all he had done, and told him that one of her mother’s dying wishes was that he stay in the home for as long as he wanted. They needed a caretaker for the place anyway. Will gladly accepted the offer with one condition. If his career ever took off, and they ever decided to sell the place, he wanted to buy it.

One year later, that very thing happened. Will Abernathy was on the New York Times best sellers list. The book he penned was a true account of his life, his friendship with Isabelle, the companionship of Edna, and how the worth of a wrecked ship can never be measured.

Ella sold the property to Will, and he used the money from his book to refurbish the Sunset Palms Nursing Home and Hospice. They were able to hire more staff, and the center became renown in the state of Florida for being one of the best.

Will got married three years after Isabelle Cardona died; he finally found a woman that was interested in him, not his vast fortune. It’s strange how time can turn things inside out! He had four children, and yes, one of the girls was named Isabelle.

Edna lived to a ripe old age of fifteen, before succumbing to the wrath of time. Will never got another dog. No one could ever take her place.