Monday, November 10, 2008

One Dog, One Dad, and One Logical Thinker

We’re nothing in this house if not passionate. You’d think we were Italian with the way we argue, debate, raise our voices, and get all excited about the silliest things. We’re not Italian, but I am wondering if one German and one Dutchman equal one Italian.

From the beginning of our relationship, B and I have debated just about everything. (For the record, neither of us are lawyers, but one of us should have been!) Over the past 25 years, we have fought argued discussed our way through various issues. Everything from politics to which direction the carpet should be vacuumed.

There’s very little gray area between us. The good thing is that we almost always know what the other person is thinking. We might not like what the other person thinks--and we’ll say so--but there’s hardly ever any underlying “stuff” between us.

This has made some people uncomfortable over the years. Our college friends just shook their heads at us, wondering how on earth we would ever make a marriage work. One friend even suggested that B just “give it up” (meaning me!) because “she isn’t worth it.”


More than 25 years together, and we’re doing just fine thankyouverymuch.

Anyway, last week our analytical ways came back to bite us. More specifically, they came back to bite B. I guess we underestimated the power of those "little ears."

On a typical morning, B will kiss me goodbye at 5:30 a.m. as he’s heading out the door to the gym. I’m usually in a semi-comatose state, so I may or may not groan my goodbye to him. But one morning last week he skipped his workout because he was tired. Why was he tired, you ask? Because Thunder woke him up at 3:00 a.m. to go outside.

Now, this hardly ever happens. In fact, I can’t remember the last time it happened. So it was strange. There had to be something wrong with the dog that day because not only did she need to be let outside in the middle of the night, but she also threw up on a rug. I found that pleasant little package when I got up.

So B was sitting at the table eating breakfast when Maggie came downstairs.

“Hi, Dad! What are you doing here this morning?”

“I slept in a little because your dog got me up last night.” (Did you catch that? YOUR dog?)

“Really? Thunder got up in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah. And I had to let her outside. At 3 in the morning. And then she threw up on the rug. I don’t like your dog very much, Maggie.”

So about a minute of silence passed between them. B had gone back to the newspaper, and Maggie was quietly eating her breakfast.



“If I got you up at 3:00 a.m. to go to the bathroom and then threw up on the rug, would you not like me anymore either?”

Looks like he may have met his match.

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