It seems I have become quite a character, with so many sides to my nature. I pop out so quickly with retorts to something said that I even amaze myself, like today with a visit to Doctor Watson, my new physician, and my nurse Jennifer at Group Heath.

This good-natured fellow asks me how I am doing. Before he’s finished, out comes, “Well, doctor, the fact that I can’t see very well out of one eye, only hear out of one ear, my left knee needs surgery and I have a trigger finger, I feel really great.” And I meant it.

To show just how great, I tell them about recently buying a new John Deere CX. A sort of small golf cart with a hard top. The little back box lifts up like a tiny dump truck to carry dirt and whatever. My dog Kenya likes the yellow seat better than riding behind me. It’s a two-seated rig.

If that isn’t enough, there is a sweet, medium-size dog that moved in with me on Memorial Day. She has come to think of this as home, I’m afraid. I have really tried to find an owner only so far have not found one. Not knowing her name, and because she has no collar, I call her Lady. She thinks sitting in the Deere at my feet, with her head hanging out, is the way to go. So, if anyone is driving down Hansville Road near Eglon and sees an old gal driving a green-and-yellow bug with two dogs wearing John Deere hats, you won’t have to guess who it is. I can’t wait to show us off at the family reunion.

When Dr. Toth retired and Dr. Watson became my new practitioner, I had this itch to say something stupid like, “Hey, how’s Sherlock?”

Glad I didn’t, because I’m sure he has heard it many times. But it did put me in mind of my stay in London, England, some years ago. Sister-in-law Virginia and I did go to Baker Street to see where this character lived. We tromped up the long, narrow stairway to a second-story small apartment. The living room was exactly as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had written. One would think an actual man had lived there in past times. We could just see Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick Dr. Watson discussing a case.

The front window looked down into the street, his violin was sitting there and so were all his pipes. There were books everywhere. We sat in the chairs by the fireplace and I almost expected Holmes to arrive and tell me to remove myself from his chair.

On a table sits a large tome that all visitors write their names and notes in. There are hundreds of letters real people have written to him with their problems and questions. Holmes and Watson have become real to them.

By the time we left, I was beginning to feel the two had been real people too. So, my Dr. Watson brought back a memory I treasure, as it was a gift from my husband to visit the British Isles, where our distant families came from.

I loved Scotland and Wales the most, although relatives came from England and Ireland too. Such wonderful memories just tell me how good my life has been.

I spelled my granddaughter Tenille’s married name wrong last issue. It is Icard, with no k, but a c.

— Contact Jacque Thornton at jacquejt@     centurytel.net.