Everybody at the Park is Talking about the Same Shit We Are

While at the park, Mrs. Wigglebottom and I overheard the following:

–"No, honey, you need understand how men think.  If he’s telling you he’ll include you once the project is off the ground, he’s never going to include you.  You’ve got to be meaner if you want to get ahead."

–"It’s on some side road in Berry Hill.  I haven’t been there, but everyone’s talking about how amazing the barbecue is."

–"Don’t worry!  They only look scary.  They’re really just obnoxious."  "No problem, my dog is the same way."

These people were walking a dalmation, either a fat Doberman mix or a thin Rottweiler mix, and a huge Chow and all three of them saw Mrs. Wigglebottom and were all rearing up on their back legs and about pulling their owner over. 

I know you didn’t ask for my dog advice, but if I were going to give it, I’d suggest having one person for every fifty pounds of dog in your house, just to make it easier to walk them.

Mrs. Wigglebottom was cracking me up at the park.  She was just running at full speed and rolling in the grass and sniffing everything and peeing all over.  I love the park, don’t get me wrong, but her enthusiasm for the park is what makes it especially delightful to go.

It’s funny because we’re pretty well-matched in terms of the speed we like to go through the park.  I’m slow and steady, but mostly just slow.  But she runs out ahead, then gets distracted by something or other and I get way out ahead of her and then she shoots by way out ahead and the cycle repeats.  And then by the end of the walk, we both kind of settle in to the rhythm of just walking side by side.

And today she wanted to run through the tall grass and I hollered, "Get out of there.  I’m not going to spend the day picking ticks off you."  But just now I looked over at her all stretched out on the floor and saw one walking across her, so I went ahead and got it and flushed it for her.  I can’t help it; I just love to dote on that dog.

Now she’s pretending to sleep, but I can see her ears perk up as I type, so I guess she’s just "resting her eyes."

Ha, I hadn’t thought of that phrase in a long time.  My grandma Avis used to say that all the time, when she’d be trying to nap and we grandkids would have some adventure we wanted her to come with us on and we’ll rush in "Grandma, are you asleep?  Come see this puppy!  Can we have some cookies?  Dad says not to wake you up.  Are you asleep?"

And she would smile and laugh and say, "No, I was just resting my eyes."  And then she would get up out of her chair and get us all cookies and find some scrap meet for the puppy.

That’s the nice thing about words, isn’t it? The way a simple turn of a phrase unlocks your heart and lets you live just a minute again with the folks that are gone from you now.

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