So, if you’ve been reading SarahDippity, you know that Bryan and I tend to take in stray animals as if they were going out of style. We’re on our second stray dog now, the one that we affectionately call Charlie. Charlie has some strange quirks.
Mom, please stop reading now. Elaine, you may also want to consider it. All (self-proclaimed) prudes have been forewarned.
Mabel and Charlie get along famously. Although he was reticent when we brought him in, he’s flowered a bit and is now sprightly and spirited. He’s very sweet and they enjoy playing together. They also have formed a team against Mark’s dog, Achilles.. a 1,000-lb great dane who laughs at the thought of these puny dogs threatening him. They take cues from eachother, Mabel noticing when Charlie’s ears get pert, and Charlie paying special attention when Mabel is sitting attently.. a sure warning that there’s food nearby. But, we learned last night, they don’t ALWAYS learn from eachother.
Again, ladies, might wanna turn away.
So last night, Bryan and I spent the evening together, celebrating his first day of school. It wasn’t a smooth-sailing kind of day for him (they decided to wax his classroom floor THAT morning, so he had nowhere to house his classes), but he had made it through. We celebrated over a pizza at Terry’s Pizza, our dive bar that we often retreat to when we’re avoiding anything high class. We then went home and watched half of “CSI: Miami” before he fell asleep. I offered an early bedtime, and he took me up on it.
Ladies, last warning. I know you’re still reading.
Once in the bedroom, in a very.. “Basic Instinct” position.. things had gotten fairly heated. Our exhaustion had made way for a fired passion and, again, things were getting a bit.. frenzied.
I’d like to point out here that I have no children. And I asked later if this is reminiscent of what it’s like to have children. He said no, and I’ll explain in a second.
As the tension was rising to a very tense state, I hear the unmistakable click click click of paws on hardwood floors. Mabel has been trained over time (and dodging objects that I’ve flailed at her) that when the lights go out and there is testosterone in the house to stay out of mommy’s room. So I figured she was just hurrying in to retrieve some wayward toy. Or maybe Bryan’s socks. Didn’t really care, at the time.
But I forgot about Charlie.
So I’m doing my best Sharon Stone “fixing-to-stab-him-with-an-ice-pick” routine, and I hear these claws. I ignore them. Then, I feel the bed shift slightly. Again, this is unimportant in my world at the present moment. Then I feel a tongue. It is not Bryan’s, and it is on my ass.
Needless to say, the celebration was over.
Anybody want a dog?
