Brady the Bandit

My friend Diva had been sleeping in a chair in a hospital room for weeks. A close family member to her had been very ill for sometime. Diva has alot on her "plate" not only did the outlook not look good medically, Diva was very pregnant. She was stressed. It was the least of what we as her friends could do to help out by organizing some meals for Diva and her family. It's what southern women do. We rally. And we cook.

I had sent out the emails to our friends and asked that those that wanted to participate bring prepared food to my house and then I would be happy to deliver it for everyone by making one trip. My friend Lynn brought over a huge deli tray. It was enormous in size and had several varieties of cheeses, meats and pickles, olives, etc...for sandwich makings. I loaded the sandwich tray into the car along with all of the other dishes that were made for Diva.

When I got to the house, I opened the back of my van where all the foods were stacked. In my arms I stacked high the casserole dishes. I managed to carry all of them, except for the large deli tray that would require two hands and nothing more-it was heavy. I went inside and began to set down all of the dishes. It took all of one whole minute. I walked back out to my van and saw a black shadow out of the corner of my eye. It darted under my vehicle. Thinking nothing more of it, as I had my mind on other things-delivering food and seeing that is was taken care of. As I got approached my car I noticed that something looked amiss. The lid to the deli tray seemed funny. As I got to it I could see the problem, something had eaten a huge hole in the lid. Just then something brushed my leg......I looked down and under my car was Diva's dog, Brady. Hanging out of his mouth was a big chunk of ham from the deli tray. He looked at me and them quickly inhaled the last huge bite, gulping big to allow it to pass down his throat. A enormous rage came over me. I began to yell, scream...."using a tapestry of words that today still lingers over space". I was entrusted to deliver an expensive deli tray-purchased by someone other than myself-and I had allowed a dog break into the tray like a burglar makes his way into a 7-11-with simplicity and ease. What was I to do?

Perhaps Diva wouldn't notice the enormous hole in the lid. I took off the surrounding pieces of meat, only one side of the tray appeared disturbed. Who was I kidding? I walked into the house with the tray. My other friend Sharon was at Diva's babysitting Diva's children. She had heard my screams and met me at the door. She took one look at my face, and then her eyes trailed down to the lid of the tray.

"BRADY?" She yelled.

"YEP! THAT BLASTED DOG!"



I carried the tray and laid it on the shelf inside the refrigerator. On it I attached a note to Diva and told her of the tragedy with the meat tray, that it was to her mind on what to do with the remains. I had not the heart nor the guts to confess to my friend Lynn the chain of events that led to the accident with the tray.

Diva returned home that evening to find her fridge full, and saw the hole in the meat tray. She knew immediately, without even reading the note, what had happened. Oddly enough, it gave her a laugh...something she had not done in weeks. It took a long time for me to forgive that thief, Brady. But I did. For it still brings laughs to my circle of friends to this day.