John and I have an unspoken schedule for whose turn it is to take the dogs out in the morning. You know it's your turn when you are the one getting pushed out of bed.
The other morning I was relishing in the fact that it wasn't my turn only to be awoken by Schatzi licking my face. I was so confused that I thought it wasn't Schatzi, but an entirely different dog. John must have brought the wrong dog inside. It took me a few minutes to recognize my own little girl!
Recognition is defined as the identification of something as having been previously seen, heard, known, etc.
John hates when I ask who someone is when we have met them before. When I meet someone, I try to associate something to their face hoping this will make them memorable. This approach never works, because all I remember is that this particular person looks like a horse or a rat.
My grandmother passed away 2 weeks shy of her 100Th birthday. In her lucid moments, you would have never guessed she had dementia. She was the cunningly-witty grandmother that I lovingly adored throughout my life. She loved to be the center of attention. I am told that I am just like her in that respect.
These lucid moments were transitory. A dark cloud of nonrecognition would abruptly creep in causing her to look helplessly around the room. She would catch your gaze with the question," ..... and just who are you again?"
I was so glad John had the chance to meet her before we left for Germany.
She met him many times that day we visited her and I am certain she liked him every time.
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