Dog days and nights
It was an interesting week here at the Hayter house. Kay’s brother, Tracy, visited and stayed for three nights. He brought his dog Maggie along. Tracy is the lead guitarist in a band that was playing at the Boogie Bar and Grill over on Walden Road. He needed a place to crash. That’s what band people do. They crash.
I got in a good visit with Tracy. That guy is the funniest person I know. He’s a master of misspeaking and mishearing. I’d give you an example, but my brain won’t hold a joke for over three minutes.
Kay got in a good visit with Maggie. Maggie looks a lot like Benji. Kay likes Benji dogs… and all other dogs. And, as some of you know, Kay really wants a dog. Fortunately, we had the dog conversation before we married. Kay doesn’t get a dog. I don’t get a motorcycle.
Maggie isn’t a big problem for me, because she catches on to body language. Do you ever watch Caesar Millan? If a dog is being a bit rambunctious, Caesar says that you are to ignore the creature when you enter a room. No touch, no talk, no eye contact. As soon as the dog calms down, you can reward it by touching, talking and looking at it.
I seldom reach the reward stage. Maggie picks up on that and leaves me alone. She’s a really a cute dog, so, at times, I’m tempted to give her some baby talk. But, I don’t baby talk animals. Just people. Baby people and adult people acting like babies.
The day after Tracy left, Jill arrived with Rugby. Rugby is a girl dog that looks an awful lot like Maggie. Only, Rugby is younger and full of energy. Jill has had her dog for only a few weeks. Rugby has yet to grasp the concept of body language. As I was ignoring her, she did a 270-degree cold nose on each of my bare legs.
Eventually I patted her on the head and it seemed to calm her down a bit. Calmed her down right up to the moment I sat down with my cup of coffee. I immediately folded my legs so as to make it impossible for the dog to climb into my lap. That’s when I discovered that Rugby can jump. Without hesitation, she leapt and landed right in my lap. Fortunately, she got no coffee burns… largely because the hot, one cream, one sugar concoction was immediately sucked up by my cotton gym shorts and deposited in my groin area.
So as not to make Jill feel bad, I managed to muffle my scream as I hurried into the bathroom. Afterward, I assured Jill that Rugby just did what dogs do. Dogs jump on people and things, they chew on things, defecate and pee on things and they sniff other dogs and people’s things.
That’s pretty much why Jill got rid of her first two dogs. She thought dogs would act more like people, only nicer. She ended up having to find homes for her first two experiments. She didn’t ask whether or not she should try another dog, so I had to give her a suggestion. I’ve given Jill way too many unsolicited suggestions. I was right about her first two dogs, but I’m fairly sure I’m way off the mark with Rugby. Rugby will work out fine. – Beg pardon? Yes, that was a grin.
Now that my sister has a dog, she’s going to do something she’s always wanted to do. – Go camping. Actually, she’s always wanted to camp with Heath Ledger, but that’s no longer possible. But, at one time, she was this close to making it happen. ( - ). See?
Jill went ahead and bought one of those tents that pops up when you throw it on the ground. It’s got a bunch of twisted plastic hoops in it that provide stored inertia that’s just waiting for an opportunity to inert. I’m nowhere near wanting one of those things, but as soon as it comes with a popup air conditioner, I’ll be this close to wanting one. (--)
I wish I enjoyed camping without a motel, but I can’t bring myself to even consider it. Can’t bring Kay, either. That girl would come closer to sleeping behind the refrigerator. But, Jill? Jill has a wandering spirit. A wandering something.
She asked me, “Moke, should I bring newspaper to start a campfire?” I told her it wouldn’t hurt. Then she asked me, “Does the newspaper go on top of the firewood or under it? And, when I get the fire started what do I put the hamburger patty on so it can cook?”
I had to do some serious thinking before I could respond. I eventually came up with. “Jill, by everything that’s just and holy, don’t do this.”
There is something about my opinion that really strengthens a person’s resolve to ignore it. The only opinion I ever had that carried any weight was the one I gave to Kay about not wanting a dog. I told her she would get a dog over my dead body. She told me that I could get me a motorcycle as long as my second wife approved. – To this day, she’s remained dogless.
And, me? I don’t even want a motorcycle. I only told her I did so it would appear that I was willing to make a tradeoff. -- I should write a book for husbands. Not for brothers, though. I’m failing miserably in that category. – Next time.
end
mark@rooftopwriter.com
 |
| Tracy nor Jill got this dog |
It was an interesting week here at the Hayter house. Kay’s brother, Tracy, visited and stayed for three nights. He brought his dog Maggie along. Tracy is the lead guitarist in a band that was playing at the Boogie Bar and Grill over on Walden Road. He needed a place to crash. That’s what band people do. They crash.
I got in a good visit with Tracy. That guy is the funniest person I know. He’s a master of misspeaking and mishearing. I’d give you an example, but my brain won’t hold a joke for over three minutes.
Kay got in a good visit with Maggie. Maggie looks a lot like Benji. Kay likes Benji dogs… and all other dogs. And, as some of you know, Kay really wants a dog. Fortunately, we had the dog conversation before we married. Kay doesn’t get a dog. I don’t get a motorcycle.
Maggie isn’t a big problem for me, because she catches on to body language. Do you ever watch Caesar Millan? If a dog is being a bit rambunctious, Caesar says that you are to ignore the creature when you enter a room. No touch, no talk, no eye contact. As soon as the dog calms down, you can reward it by touching, talking and looking at it.
I seldom reach the reward stage. Maggie picks up on that and leaves me alone. She’s a really a cute dog, so, at times, I’m tempted to give her some baby talk. But, I don’t baby talk animals. Just people. Baby people and adult people acting like babies.
The day after Tracy left, Jill arrived with Rugby. Rugby is a girl dog that looks an awful lot like Maggie. Only, Rugby is younger and full of energy. Jill has had her dog for only a few weeks. Rugby has yet to grasp the concept of body language. As I was ignoring her, she did a 270-degree cold nose on each of my bare legs.
Eventually I patted her on the head and it seemed to calm her down a bit. Calmed her down right up to the moment I sat down with my cup of coffee. I immediately folded my legs so as to make it impossible for the dog to climb into my lap. That’s when I discovered that Rugby can jump. Without hesitation, she leapt and landed right in my lap. Fortunately, she got no coffee burns… largely because the hot, one cream, one sugar concoction was immediately sucked up by my cotton gym shorts and deposited in my groin area.
So as not to make Jill feel bad, I managed to muffle my scream as I hurried into the bathroom. Afterward, I assured Jill that Rugby just did what dogs do. Dogs jump on people and things, they chew on things, defecate and pee on things and they sniff other dogs and people’s things.
That’s pretty much why Jill got rid of her first two dogs. She thought dogs would act more like people, only nicer. She ended up having to find homes for her first two experiments. She didn’t ask whether or not she should try another dog, so I had to give her a suggestion. I’ve given Jill way too many unsolicited suggestions. I was right about her first two dogs, but I’m fairly sure I’m way off the mark with Rugby. Rugby will work out fine. – Beg pardon? Yes, that was a grin.
Now that my sister has a dog, she’s going to do something she’s always wanted to do. – Go camping. Actually, she’s always wanted to camp with Heath Ledger, but that’s no longer possible. But, at one time, she was this close to making it happen. ( - ). See?
Jill went ahead and bought one of those tents that pops up when you throw it on the ground. It’s got a bunch of twisted plastic hoops in it that provide stored inertia that’s just waiting for an opportunity to inert. I’m nowhere near wanting one of those things, but as soon as it comes with a popup air conditioner, I’ll be this close to wanting one. (--)
I wish I enjoyed camping without a motel, but I can’t bring myself to even consider it. Can’t bring Kay, either. That girl would come closer to sleeping behind the refrigerator. But, Jill? Jill has a wandering spirit. A wandering something.
She asked me, “Moke, should I bring newspaper to start a campfire?” I told her it wouldn’t hurt. Then she asked me, “Does the newspaper go on top of the firewood or under it? And, when I get the fire started what do I put the hamburger patty on so it can cook?”
I had to do some serious thinking before I could respond. I eventually came up with. “Jill, by everything that’s just and holy, don’t do this.”
There is something about my opinion that really strengthens a person’s resolve to ignore it. The only opinion I ever had that carried any weight was the one I gave to Kay about not wanting a dog. I told her she would get a dog over my dead body. She told me that I could get me a motorcycle as long as my second wife approved. – To this day, she’s remained dogless.
And, me? I don’t even want a motorcycle. I only told her I did so it would appear that I was willing to make a tradeoff. -- I should write a book for husbands. Not for brothers, though. I’m failing miserably in that category. – Next time.
end
mark@rooftopwriter.com
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