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As Scene ByBY FREDERICK (RICK) DERUITERI’ve rehearsed and written this column in my head, in my car, and in moments of absent thought for nearly five years. I’m always changing the tone, the angle, and hopefully find- ing a way to avoid sorrow.An imaginary bag of lem- ons seems best – and a glass half-full – of LEMONADE!I’ve taken off the cor-ner-nipped chunk of plasticthat holds the bag of lemons closed, and quickly remove a handful of them.The original 70-pound ball of enthusi- astic muscle and fur had been diminished some with age. Which means I’m already not having to lament about biting at the rake while sweeping leaves, or barking endlessly for another shovel-full of snow in her face, or including tennis balls on the grocery list, or pulling at the leash faster than I can walk.So with those beginning lemons having been squeezed and sweetened... the pitcher has already begun to fill.I grab another lemon and lift it... “This piece of fruit is savored for never having to apologize to guests ever again for being licked.”This piece of fruit is for never having to say... “Geez, what’s that smell!”And another... “This lemon is for never having to convince an unprepared neighbor that she’s running full speed at them only because she wants them to pet her.Still another... “This bit of citrus is for not having to run my finger along the corner of the stairs for fur, or pulling back some furniture to find a pile of fur the size of a rabbit. The pitcher is filling quickly.I lift the next lemon in the air to celebrate getting back my part of the bed. I have a king-sized bed... one half is my wife’s... the other half has been split by myself, and the beast for almost 15 years. I think I will sleep“snow-angel-style” for a while, just because I can.I’ve made my way to the workshop and listen. There’s no interruptive barking for a tour of the yard. I’ll squeeze another lemon into the pitch- er. Heck, a bit more sugar, too!I brag to my wife that I neither had to scoop, rake, bury, or bag any smelly de-posits before I mow the lawn. Brag again that I won’t have to shake my head angrily about the deposit I missed – but found with my shoe while mowing that lawn.I think this bag of lemons may indeed be empty. And all things in the world seem happy and most delightful.I lift the netted bag from the back corner to check... there is one lemon left. It’s too new, too green, too firm – not quite ready to be halved, quartered, and squeezed. My broken heart will be a lemon that sits on the counter for a while... I’m not quite ready to let that one go.I guess, I’d really rather not have lemonade after all... I’ll miss you always Dory Ann, my Christmas Puppy.When life gives you lemons...DON’T MISS YOUR CHANCE TO WIN!Be a super sleuth... join the ongoing hunt for Rick DeRuiterPour through the pages of Scene this month and find theelusive DeRuiter. Warn your friends. Warn your neighbors. He’s in there somewhere, waiting for the one lucky detective to find him!LAST MONTH... Page 19 LAST MONTH’S WINNER... JENNIFER CAVINDERLOOK! - Now you can e-mail your detective work too! Include your name, daytime phone and what page you found him.OR on-line at... www.scenepub.comWHERECOULD HE BE?Have you found him in this issue?If yes, call Scene at 979-1410 ext. 307 to have your name entered in the drawing to receive A GIFT CERTIFICATE TO A LOCAL EATERY. You must make your discovery by August 6, 2018 and the winner will be announced in the next issue of Scene!WIN A VALUABLE PRIZE!4 SCENE 4307 I ANNUAL REPORT CARD

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