Friday again already?

The days just fly by, I guess, and before I know it, it's Friday again. I can tell because everyone in the neighborhood has their trash out on the curb.

Some of you may know that Czechs settled this area shortly after the original immigration dispute with Mexico was settled. That explains the large number of names in the local phone book that end with -cek or with -ska.

Len, who runs the bar-and-grill-and-swap-meet up the road, is a descendant of Czeck immigrants, which makes no real difference, except that it's what reminded me of that bit of historical trivia.

Len's mother, Ellie Strmmiska, went on vacation just a few weeks ago, and boarded her flight home with her purse over her shoulder, her carry-on bag in tow, and her little dog in his box. She found her seat, stashed the carry-on in the overhead, and set the dog-in-the-box on the seat next to her.

Almost immediately, the flight attendant came by and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the flight is going to be full and we'll need that seat. I'll have to take the dog and put it in baggage."

Ellie agreed. What else could she do?

During the flight, the flight attendant looked in on the little dog, and said words I cannot repeat, for the dog was dead. She informed the pilot who notified the airport who told the director who decided that they would get an other dog to replace this one. The little old lady would never know.

When the plane landed and Ellie went to baggage claim, they brought her a box with a new dog, an exact replica of her old dog.

"This is not my dog", Ellie stated.

"Why, yes, it is," the manager said. "See, it has the same markings."

"This is not my dog", Ellie insisted.

"How do you know this isn't your dog?" asked the manager.

"My dog is dead!"