she

she· verb

04.20.03
Remember, Christ died so that we may have Peeps today.

Earlier this week I did not have my camera ready for either the middle-aged paunchy guy I saw tooling around town on a Segway, or the two cows I saw doing it. (You read me right--not one cow and one bull, but two cows. Two. Cows.) For both participants and witnesses, each event appeared awkward, uncomfortable, and unsuitable for public display. So why my first thought was, "Damn! Where's my camera?" is beyond me. Perhaps I delight in torturing you and wished I had better visual material prepared than more dog pictures.

Sadly, there comes a time in a childless couple's life when pets begin to anthropomorphize into furry surrogate offspring. What to regular people is normal canine behavior begins to take on significant and exaggerated meaning, voices within the household often rise and fall in a sing-song cadence ordinarily heard between an adult and infant, pets are lavished with expensive gifts and services, and there's the sneaking suspicion that most sensible people on the planet Earth are waiting in breathless anticipation for more photographs of "the kids".

Based on recent evidence overheard in our home, I fear Hula and I may have inadvertently become such a couple.

"Please don't use that tone around Ouija. He's sensitive."

(Ala' Goofus and Galant) "Ouija is a good boy, he comes when he's called! Theo is a bad boy, he lags behind and eats his own poop."

"When they lick each other there, it means they love one another."

"He's General Weeeeeeeege. He's wise and powerful Weeeeeeeeeege. He's commander of all the fluffy puppies in the woooooooooorld!"

(To the tune of Alouette) "He is Ouija, he's a fluffy puppy. Just a puppy, all the live long day. He is fluffy in the morning, he is fluffy in the evening. Who is fluffy? He is fluffy. Where is Ouija? There is Ouija. There. Is. Ouija..."

"Since we're both working late tonight, the dog-walker should come twice today."

"Put liver treats in their Easter basket!"

You knew this part was next, right?

Theo looks to the sky, contemplating his place in the world.
(Actually, he's looking at Hula and hoping a treat is in his immediate future.)

Try to be a little fluffier, why don't you?

Had enough Cocker for one entry? Me too. Maybe next time I'll fill you in on my fear of contracting SARS during my summer vacation to Halifax and Prince Edward Island and how I plan to avoid it by not breathing the entire time I'm there. Or I could snap a picture of "Studs McFriendly", the gardener who passes my office window at work every couple of weeks; tanned, shirtless and carrying large outdoorsy-type equipment with both hands. I'll bet I could even scare up a humiliating anecdote about how I inadvertently moved this one guy's directory into this other guy's directory while looking up something on a network drive, quickly discovering that I couldn't move it back out because I didn't have "permissions" and having to contact the guy and let him know, in writing, what a colossal idiot I am.

But now? Now it's late and I'm going to bed. After, of course, I tuck in the boys, pet their heads three times each, and sing them a lullaby.

Before I do that that, however, I'd like to point out that while what is pictured below is not actually an item sent to me by a reader or invisible internet friend (IIF), I felt this was a "gift" that qualified special recognition.

Thanks, Jesus!

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