2007 has had a rough beginning here in Acton. My wife wakes up before me. She is always the one to discover any overnight presents our elderly dog, Bernice may have left for us on the carpet, in the kitchen, or any path that sees high traffic. So she finds a reminder that January 1, 2007 is just another day day in the life. Happy New Year Dear!
After cleaning up after Bernie, she tosses both dogs outside to hopefully have them continue their morning purge outside and not inside. As she steps onto the front step, the ice from an overnight dousing causes her to lose her footing. Up, up and away. Down hard on her hip and elbows. That left knee that has been a pain is screaming bloody murder now. Happy New Year Dear!
Then I wake up. Bright eyed and bushy tailed from one of the most complete night's sleep in a long time, I am a happy camper and full of good cheer. "Happy New Year", I shout as I make my way to the kithchen.
The death stare I met as I came into the kitchen should have clued me in. The silence that accompanied that stare should have emphasized the point. But I was happily clueless. It was not until the words, "Your Dog", left her lips did I begin to catch on. Too late. I had led with my chin.
Bernice was not"my dog". She was usually "our dog". She became "my dog" when she did something wrong. Apparently I took over responsibility for her actions when they were performed under the blanket of darkness and in secret. I never agreed to this arrangement. It was assigned to me. It was not fair. But there it is. Life is not fair.
I dropped into the sympathetic spousal mode quickly. Ahh, that's awful sweetie pie, I wish I had found it not you routine. I did not know about the falling on her butt thing yet.
"Why did you not put sand down on the walk?" Uh oh. The other shoe just dropped. I was now handily caught and about to be disemboweled. I could feel it coming. I had no escape. My role as scapegoat for a day was about all I had to look forward to now. Happy Flippin New Year!