has been

When I was pregnant it seemed like everyone was interested in my health, weight and general well- being.

Then Llara was born, and like Jack Kennedy who said he was "the man who brought Jackie Kennedy to Paris," I was the woman who brought this chubby-cheeked baby into the world.

People who never visited me, came to see the baby, including parents of my friends who also never visited before.

I could live with being a has-been among my friends and their folks, for I was in love with the baby.

Rick and I talked about getting a dog for five years or so. We wanted a rescue dog, a female, older too.

When we went to the rescue center, one of the workers put a 12-week old male mongrel (Yorkie, griffon and many other things) into my arms. It was love at first lick.

We are spending the winter in a centuries-old French village with narrow streets, where it is almost impossible to walk without greeting neighbors and chatting.

Sherlock quickly replaced the normal questions or comments with "Il est très mignon" and other exclamations on his cuteness. I wasn't jealous. He was overdosing on his cute appreciation as was I. It never bothered me that he received about 98% of the attention and my attention, the remaining 2%, was more about how he was doing. I could report a good pee and poop report, how he sat on command etc.

However, now when I walk down the street alone when I'm heading to do some errands that would take too long with Sherlock, I don't hear, "Ca va?" "Bonjour" or any of the other French chit chat.

My neighbors spy me and the first question is "Oú est Sherlock?"

Like a few decades ago, I can live with being a has-been to an adorable five kilos of wiggles and fur.