Father’s Day

My parents came through town yesterday on their way down to Georgia to pick up my nephews for some days at their house. It was good to see them. I’ll never get over how much dogs love my dad. But their arrival did prove to me that Sonnyboy would be the most terrible guard dog. They came in the back door and he very quietly got up and went into the kitchen and we didn’t even know they were here until they came into the living room. Even though they’d been loving on him in the kitchen for a minute or two.

They’re upset with my brother for not making the arrangements for the nephews to go to their house for the summer and not telling them that he wasn’t doing it, thus leaving it to them to try to arrange from the road. My mom says my dad is having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that my brother’s world and my parents’ world are just so very, very different. I guess that’s one way to think of it. My mom is also worried that I’m giving my brother money. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. No. I’m not claiming to not be a dumbass, but I’m not that kind of dumbass.

Our neighbor is dogsitting a puppy for the week. The puppy is very excited by the prospect of being able to bark at a whole wide world of things. Sonnyboy seems mostly perplexed as to what all the fuss is about. Kids today. Don’t they know barking at the whole world should be done from the car?

My dad also laughed at our claim that the dog weighs 100 lbs. He insists 100 lbs wouldn’t even begin to be a healthy weight for the dog–he’d be all skin and bones. He’s putting him up near 125, maybe bigger.

Because we got a friendly couch, not a dog, apparently.

Ha ha ha. You can see that I’m torn. I want to fret over my brother’s ridiculousness, but then I think of something cute the dog did and I’m all “eh, let’s talk about the dog instead, since he’s made of big-hearted stupidity.” He doesn’t really understand playing. But he and I went out in the far back yesterday and he ran toward me when I called him and it was beautiful and non-awkward looking and sometimes, when I didn’t call him, he would zoom past me and then circle back around with this smile on his face, as if to say, “Whew, did you see how fast I was going? Wasn’t it awesome?” And then, a couple of times, he would sniff at something and then look back at me as if to say, “Yeah, I don’t like that this smells like this.” And I don’t really know how to explain it, but I thought “oh, coyote.” Possibly because of the way he stood a little straighter and seemed to sniff really intently, like he was trying to decide if the danger was nearby or gone.

I need a dog of the past like that. Someone who could sniff out all my memories, then put his nose to the air, and decide for me if the danger was gone.

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