Man's best friend

Zoe was sick today, so I dropped her off at my dad's instead of sending her to school. After hours in the morning of her constant "eh eh eh eh," as if she were stuck under a fallen rock and no one was rescuing her, it was so peaceful to get back into the car and hear quiet. I briefly felt bad for my dad, and hoped for his sake she would sleep most of the day.

Everyone had survived when I made it back there in the evening. I thought about putting SarahB in the car and bringing her home, since I was going to get her this weekend anyway, and I turned to her and said, "Are you ready to go home now?"

My dad shot out: "NOT UNTIL SHE GETS HER HAIR TRIMMED. And I might not get to it this weekend."

He might as well have sprung up and placed himself between me and my dog, in a foreboding stance that meant, "We can take it outside if you don't agree with my assessment of this situation," as he wrung his fists and glanced back protectively at the pup.

Because I'm sure by his tone that's exactly what he would have done if I had made any attempt to remove the animal.


I guess I'll give him a little more time.