We all deal with momentous problems: Health issues, the plunging stock market, who to choose for the next president of theseUnited States; So why is it that the small issues bedevil us so?

Case in point: Because of my snail slow internet service I decided to switch carriers—seemed simple enough, especially since the commission driven salesman promised me the moon and a couple of stars for one low price.

A very nice and competent young fellow worked diligently all of Tuesday afternoon to install my new connections. I was pleased. My internet speed is much better, my cable television is fine, the only ant at the picnic is that I had poor to no telephone service for 5 days.

First they told me (even though I was the purchasing agent on the contract) that I was not an account holder because the previous service was in the name of my husband. Funny, they’ve been accepting my checks since 1999, but they couldn’t switch on the phone until I personally went to their local office with two forms of ID. I suppose they thought I might be impersonating myself.

So, I drove to the office and stood in line so that I could tell the person behind the keyboard that my husband is deceased. You wouldn’t think that would be so hard after 7 years, but it is. The nice lady said, “No problem, you are connected.”

For the next few days, I had service on and off, mostly off. When I tried to call Insight from my cell phone I was disconnected or told by the person on the other end of the line that they couldn’t hear me. Yesterday my phone was dead as a doornail. So—I skipped church this morning and took my cell phone outside to hopefully improve my range.

Once I got a technician on the line he gave me instructions about repairing my problem (mine—not theirs.) It all had to do with modems and batteries and crossing my fingers and toes while whistling “When the Saints Go Marching In”.  I must have sounded a little tentative because there was a repairman at my door within 20 minutes. Now, that’s my kind of service.

Turns out the modem they had previously installed was defective. Whew, that’s one problem solved. Now my water heater is leaking, I’m sure a thoroughly chewed wad of bubble gum will fix that right up.

For some good news: Maggie and I sort of rescued a dog in distress yesterday. We were walking when the dog from across the street came running to us. I forget what breed he is; he’s wide bodied and low to the ground and has long hair. Generally speaking, Milo does not like Maggie. He growls if she comes within 6 feet of his property, but Milo is like Maggie in that he is as well cared for as a spoiled child. He is never off his lead unless his parents (excuse me—owners) are out with him.

So Milo comes tearing up to me, completely ignoring Maggie, and jumps up to gently put his front paws on my knees. His furry face said, “I’m in trouble. Can you help?” Maggie and I took him home and I rang the door bell. No answer, we went around back. The door to the sunroom was ajar. I said, “Milo you go in.” He did, but gave me an aggrieved stare. I looked in through the open door. He was standing at his empty water dish. I laughed and thought this is a very smart dog.

Maggie and I went back across the street and fetched Milo some fresh water. He seemed satisfied when I pulled the door closed.

Milo’s family had gone shopping. They thought the door was shut. Evidently, Milo knew just who to ask for a little help in a time of trouble. I wonder if he’ll growl at Maggie the next they meet.

I just love dog stories with happy endings. Don’t you? Indeed it is the little things.