I married my father. I did not set out in a Freudian attempt to make that happen. And a part of me wonders if this is a natural progression for Juanito since he does admire my Dad. None the less, the transformation has begun.
Let me give you a little back story. Growing up we had a family dog. She was a miniature Schnauzer and her name was Muffie. To my sister and me, she was the youngest sibling we never had. She was also the single best doll we had (which is saying a lot in comparison to the Cabbage Patch craze we grew up in) because we could feed her and put her in real baby clothes and make her sleep in our old bassinet and drink from a bottle. Ah, such fun!
Unfortunately my Dad did not recognize her as his fourth daughter. When we first got her, from the Easter Bunny, she came with a fake, plastic turkey leg that squeaked. And she was known for lying around, gnawing on it which meant there was more often than not, an incessant squeaking sound. We speculated that she loved the sound more than the chewing. My Dad’s solution was to duct tape the squeaky end. She still gnawed away on it but eventually the pressure of the trapped air and her chewing blew a hole in the leg. She eventually chewed that hole to a bigger hole, which we would hook our finger into in order to get that damn thing away from her. Over time the hole grew to the point that the once squeaky end dangled like a scab and eventually fell off. She loved that leg until the day it died.
My Dad’s approach to small problems like that has always been practical in nature but perhaps absurd in execution. Years later another dog joined Muffie, my dog, Mickey. Apparently there was too much nocturnal activity for my Dad because he would bitch and moan about their tags on their collars. They were always clinking together and waking him up. Perhaps, looking back on this, Dad needed some medicinal sleep aid??? So the practical solution, again involving duct tape, was to tape their tags together. (which reads to me "tape their legs together" which is absurd but not practical) When the tape got matted into Muffie's chest hair, the tape was removed but quickly replaced by Dad. Probably a good thing that both dogs were fiercely loyal and never strayed far. If they had no one would have been able to read the oh-so-helpful tags of information in such event.
Fast forward to current day and socks have replaced duct tape as the practical tool with an absurd implementation. You see, apparently Alfie and Cassidy have been doing some nocturnal grooming. And the constant slurp, slurp, slurp has woken Juanito one time too many times. The other night while getting ready for bed he starts talking to Cass while opening the doors on his dresser, telling her he loved her but the night time bathing had to stop. He pulls out an armful of rolled up work socks and puts them on his bedside table. I asked him if he was loading up on ammunition and he nodded. He is tired of the early morning antics (or middle of the night) and is willing to fire off a set of socks at the first sound. No warnings. Which by the way the antics are not limited to just grooming. Cassidy has a delightful way of letting you know she is ready to eat, at any time. It involves spinning, panting, occasional nudges and a grunt/pant mixture whenever you twitch or move. It is hands down one of the most annoying things I have ever had a dog do. And Muffie used to eat sanitary napkins out of the trash can.
So the past few mornings I have woken up to a few pairs of socks scattered about the room. I haven't heard if this is a successful endeavor or not. But I did just get an email from Juanito…..
Sent: Thursday, September 20, 2012 12:54 PM
I think Cass called me a dick when I threw my sock at her last night.
Subject: RE: Dogs
Date: Thu, 20 Sep 2012 19:58:39 +0000
Probably. I saw two sets on the floor this morning. What is she cleaning? Or is this just her spinning?
Sent: Thursday, September 20, 2012 12:54 PMTo: LikethewrapSubject: RE: Dogs
They both were cleaning
I see this as the first step to Juanito morphing into my Dad. One practical step at a time.
I will let you know when I go to bed later than him and get hit with a pair of socks, which might happen next week.