My Mom is in Love with Kirby

Hello Everyone,  Popcorn here...I think my Mom has gone a little batty since Gingi passed away.  I mean...I miss the fuzzy little stink bear...in my own way...but at least I haven't fallen in love with a vacuum.  Last night the doorbell rang...which I didn't hear...because...as you all know...I am deaf...but none-the-less I could tell excitement was imminent.  Both Diggity (Daddy Dan's brown dog who thinks she is the most perfect dog on the planet) and I could sense trouble...so together we tried to block Mom's passage to the door.  We failed.  She opened the door and there he was...not some tall, dark, handsome stranger as in a fairytale.  In fact, I'm not even sure remember what he looked like...and I am CERTAIN my Mom doesn't remember (of course...she doesn't remember ANYTHING...so this is not surprising.)  I didn't hear what they were talking about (deaf, remember?)  But my Mom's face lit up...like it was Christmas morning and the stocking was full of Starbucks coupons.  I got the gist, though.  The guy was coming back...and he was bringing something with him.  I had a strange feeling that I wouldn't like whatever this "thing" was...but my Mom's face was so bright...almost scary in it's joy...that I decided I would be a good girl and not scare the man with unknown item away.  Mom went outside to tell that new guy who lives here...and looks like her (only with a lot of Jerry Garcia hair) what was happening.  The Jerry Garcia guy's eyes got very large and his hands started to shake.  I saw his lips move into a rather frightening tight line...and then they opened and mumbled something.  Of course I couldn't hear it (deaf, remember?)...but my lip-reading to "dog" translator deciphered the movements into "there is going to be a strange man with a strange machine coming into our house at night to clean a carpet?"  There was much discussion after this...my Mom...her eyes bright...full of joy and laughter...her hands waving around and pointing in all kinds of directions.  The Jerry Garcia Guy started pacing around in circles and pointing at stuff too.  His eyes were not filled with joy and laughter.  Then the guy who looks and smells a lot like Daddy Dan popped out of Mom's old craft room.  His lips started moving too.  I got really nervous and leaned against my joyful Mom.  That stupid brown dog came upstairs too.  She was also trying to get close to my Mom.  We were all crammed in the upstairs hallway.  The humans were pointing and waving and moving their lips all around...and stupid brown dog, I, and that fat fluffy orange cat-like object were wandering around between all of their legs.  It was mayhem...and I didn't like it.  Finally...everyone went their separate ways.  A bit of time went by...and the doorbell rang again...(I couldn't hear it, deaf, remember?)  The stupid brown dog and I did our job and barked ferociously at the door.  Mom shoved us out of the way.  Her eyes were almost in a zombie-state.  They were glassy...and bright...and she was practically skipping.  The strange man brought a medium sized box through the door and carried it up the stairs into the hallway.  Mom followed.  The Jerry Garcia guy went into his room and shut the door...as did the guy who looks and smells like Daddy Dan.  It was just me, the stupid brown dog, Mom, and the stranger with the box.  I kept close to my Mom...the stupid brown dog, too.  Let me tell you (sidebar)...the upstairs hallway is NOT large enough for me...that stupid brown dog...and my Mom.  The stupid brown dog NEEDS TO GO.  The stranger opened the box and brought out a shiny, silvery thing.  It looked a bit like it was made of melted dog bowls that had been reshaped.  He then attached it to a long thing...and now it looked like that horrible monster that Mom and the Jerry Garcia guy drag over the floor sometimes.  Whenever that monster appears...I disappear...if you know what I mean.  But this time I overcame my fear...because the look on my Mom's face was just not right.  It was ominously perky.  It was DANGEROUS.  The stranger took a long thing attached to the monster-like object and stuck it in the wall.  He then moved the monster about two inches across the carpet...Mom clapped her hands...she was delighted!  She was staring into the stomach of the monster.  The monster was clearly starving...because it was eating whatever was beneath it like crazy.  The stranger showed Mom the contents of the monster's stomach...Mom clapped her hands again and jumped up and down.  I leaned closer to her.  I was afraid.  For the next little while the stranger and Mom repeated these actions.  The stranger would move the monster, the monster would eat, Mom would clap, the stranger would remove the contents of the monster's stomach, and so on.  The contents of the monster's stomach were placed on the edge of the stairway.  After awhile I thought they looked familiar.  I mean...some of the contents just looked like that stuff that the cat poops in...but the other stuff...it looked a lot like...um...it is on the tip of m tongue...GINGI.  It looked like Gingi.  In fact...I started wondering if Gingi would appear right before my eyes...right there!  I finally understood...Mom was clapping because the monster was bringing Gingi back!  Even though I didn't hang out with Gingi in the traditional "chase a ball together and nibble on each other's lips" kind of way...I felt content when she was around.  I would be happy to have her back.  More time went by...more of the same...and then I read Mom's lips as she spoke to the stranger, "what is it...like...$800 dollars or something...ha ha ha."  The stranger didn't provide an answer to the question...instead he said, "let's steam clean the carpet now."  The stranger brought out another stomach thing to put on the monster...and white bubbly stuff started coming out all over the carpet!  The monster was vomiting!  The monster vomited and vomited all over the carpet.  Mom reached down and rubbed the bile between her fingers...and then clapped again.  She was delighted.  I was completely grossed out.  The stupid brown dog just stared.  I endured another 10 minutes or so of the vomiting monster.  Finally the monster stopped...and the stranger started tearing it limb from limb!  He put it back in the box.  Mom was still smiling and laughing and clapping.  She was wandering across the carpet in her bare feet.  The Jerry Garcia guy came out of his room and stared at her blankly.  She laughed some more.  I looked up where Mom had put the stuff from the monster's stomach to see if Gingi had appeared...I mean...at least something good could come out of this home invasion.  It was then that I saw my Mom...grab all of the Gingi fluff...and put it in the GARBAGE.  If it weren't for the far away loving look in her eye...I would have despised her right then...but I could tell...she was acknowledging the fact that Gingi was NOT coming back...and remembering her with love.  I sniffed the air and noticed that not only was Gingi's fluff gone...but also the smell of her incontinence.  It was gone...and I knew I would miss that smell.  It was the smell of survival.  It was the smell of perseverance.  I know Mom got tired of cleaning it up every day...but she did it.  She wanted Gingi to decide when to move on...she wasn't going to help her get there just because of a soiled carpet.  She made Gingi more important than a carpet...but that carpet in it's own way, was a reminder.  A reminder of the only inconvenient thing about Gingi.  I finally understood why Mom let the stranger with the monster into our home.  The stranger with the monster helped my Mom move on.  I learned later that the monster's name is Kirby.  Mom really wants to adopt Kirby...just like she did with Gingi and me.  The adoption fee for Kirby is much more than Mom can afford though.  If Mom did decide to bring Kirby into our family, I wouldn't be angry or sad.  I would be happy, because Kirby would always be a reminder that the stupid brown dog, Bubba, Kim Kitty, and I...we are all much more important than a carpet.  Our Mom would spend her lunch money to ensure that we never had to leave our family no matter how old and crusty we get.  Until next time....woof.