There is a country club in Thomson, Georgia that is open to the general public each Friday. A delicious buffet of southern delights waits at the far end of the dining room. Fried chicken, catfish, savory meatloaf, creamy mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese and a big pan of bacon sits steaming. Corn bread and tiny homemade biscuits top off your plate. Of course, there is the dessert table laden with a few choices and a crystal bowl of freshly whipped cream.When I turn left off the main highway and then navigate the gently curving road, food is not on my mind. As I make my right turn and catch a glimpse of the green golf course, I wonder if my friend will be at the door. I carefully park on the horseshoe drive and walk up the path toward the front door. It's a cold afternoon and the front porch is darkened with shade. There is no sign of my friend. I choose a table by the double windows and happily locate my usual door greeter lounging in a sun patch on the putting green. I don't blame the old yellow dog. It's much nicer in the sun. He rolls on his side, exposing the thick fur, whitened with age on a belly longing for a good rub. I sip my glass of unsweetened tea, "Yankee Tea" as it's referred to without the pounds of sugar, and wonder if I could get away with calling it a day.
As I head to my car, I stop to take a picture of the old yellow dog who is still sunning himself at the edge of the green. He suddenly looks up and I comment to my lunch companion that I think he is posing for me. He continues to focus in my direction but his gaze is on something behind me. I forgot my jacket on the back of my chair and the waitress is briskly walking it to me. Clutching my jacket, I give a brief wave to the dog. Until next time, I think and head back to my car.
