Fake Lola

A few days ago, I posted a picture of me in a red dress, and a tiara, looking all young and thin and holding in my lap, a foam board and felt replica of Lola.

Even back then I was trying to avoid the dreaded double chin in pics.
So, I said that the Fake Lola was another story.

Here's the story.

My great grandfather, Julius Breyer (of Nashville, TN) died at the age of sixty-three.

His son, my grandfather, Adolph Henry Breyer (who went by A, thankfully) died at the age of sixty three.

So when my father, William Breyer turned sixty-four, we threw one hell of a party.  As you will.

So, this would have been in 2004.  December 27 of that year to be exact. 

I was still living in Atlanta, within a few miles of their house. 

Lola was no longer a puppy at that point, but she had gotten a bad rap for her evil ways.  She had, as will happen, gotten into a cake and some sausage at a brunch earlier that year on Easter Sunday.  Luckily, it was just me and Matt, Mom and Dad, and their dog Sadie to witness it.  I believe Sadie may also have gotten some sausage, but I remember Lola with a large link her mouth, running around the kitchen table like it was the Indy 500. 

Also, she didn't like people very much, and children especially.  Since there were going to be my cousins' kids at the party, it was decided and handed down to me that Lola was not invited.

What you should probably understand is that I didn't like to leave Lola at home.  Matt came to see me more than I went to see him because of Lola.   I may have had some separation anxiety.

Anyway, as you know I did not, and do not have kids.

But being told to leave my beast at my apartment (five miles away) hurt my feelings a little, so I did what any normal woman would do.  I made a replica cardboard cut out of my dog and brought it to the party.

Fake Lola then came to our wedding, bedecked in the bow you see above, and sat guard over the grooms' cake table.

She is in the guest room at Mom and Dad's - I should bring her home.

Now, there was another time that Lola was uninvited from a family event after we moved up here.

Sadie had passed on, and Mom and Dad had Maggie, the brand new Pug puppy.  Well, they were concerned that Lola would eat Maggie and said she couldn't come for Christmas.

I lost my shit a little on that edict, and we basically said, well, that's fine.  We're going to have to cut it short in Atlanta to get home and pick our dog up at the kennel so we can celebrate Christmas as a family in Nashville.

And that's basically what we did.  And what Lola did was write my parents a letter.

She cut words out of magazines  and pasted them.  I recall that the the letter contained an F bomb, said "thanks for nothing" and was signed, "Warmest Blessings, Lola" .  I'm a little fuzzy on the finer points, except that it was a passive aggressive arts and crafts project.  And that it contained her customary gift of scratch off lottery tickets.

For the record, Lola wouldn't have eaten Maggie.  Chinese never did sit well with her.

I still miss her.  Yesterday was eight months.  Today, Matt cleaned out our coat closet and said he swept up enough of her hair to clone her.  He also found the heating pad I put in her bed to keep her warm that last year.  I know for a fact her life jacket from our canoe trips is in there, too.

Ah well.

Warmest blessings,


PS - We had 64 flamingos placed in my parents' lawn for that party.  Remind me to tell you about Dad's 70th.