When I eventually split the sheets with Brunhilda, She got the furniture, the investments, the pots and pans, the flatware, and the checking account. I got the bumpus hounds – Iggy and Rosie. I guess they were a consolation prize. In order to salve some of my marital wounds, I decided to take a trip to Arizona to see my daughter and my granddaughter. I could have taken a plane, and I am sure I could have gotten there by train also. But that would have been too easy.
I hatched a plan that would have been the envy of Moe, Larry, and Curly. My planned trip was a solitary, testosterone-laden pursuit of over fifteen hundred miles, in my car, with the bumpus hounds. I made that plan after wrapping myself around too many Budweisers.
I would have appreciated a thin crack of common sense when I decided to drive and take my dogs. I felt about as smart as an O.J. juror!
But the die was cast. Most of my friends told me I was cornier than Iowa in August. I said to them that this was not exactly trail blazing information. So, feeling that my I.Q. was equal to a pair of odor eaters, I went like a knight, clanking off to his next crusade.
As much as it wounds me say this, for the entire trip, they were no help at all. They ate, slept, peed and crapped! That was the sum total of their assistance. No conversation at all. I tell you it definitely challenged my tolerance muscle. But I guess it was somewhat my own fault because I raised them that way. The trip down to Arizona seemed like it lasted longer than a Jerry Lewis telethon.
My time in Arizona was really great. My daughters family are perfect hosts, and I couldn’t have felt more welcome. The time I spent with my granddaughter as she grows all too fast was especially precious.
By the time I was getting ready to go, I had noticed that the dogs were not only at home in this new environment, but they had endeared themselves to my daughter’s family. In my heart, I knew that these dogs didn’t have enough fur to be in North Dakota in the winter. I felt sorry for them every time I had to put them outside – about 5 times a day. When I was at work, they had to be locked up. They got less sunlight than a shitake mushroom.
At this point, we merged our nimble little minds into a committee. I knew that Princess (daughter) was attached to the dogs from way back, and the granddaughter was on board with it. The final decision came down to whether I would give up the bumpus hounds and whether Galahad, (son-in-law), would make a home for them. But I was confident that Galahad would make the right choice because he has lots of wisdom, insight and knows his inside poop.
Leaving the dogs in Arizona would be freeing for me. I wouldn’t have to arrange baby sitters if I wanted to leave for a weekend and I wouldn’t have to feel guilty for just going to a movie because I would have to put them in “lock down”.
Galahad agreed to take the bumpus
hounds. Opportunities sometimes don’t just knock, they jiggle the doorknob!
I said goodbye to Rosie and Iggy and started back on my long journey without them. They did not seem at all sorry to see me go. They were more interested in chasing some damn ball than seeing me drive off into the sunset. I have to confess that it nearly made me tear with sentiment – but I was tougher than woodpecker lips and never offered a whimper.
I am not trying to wheedle your sympathy, but my home is now as different as Mayberry without Barney Fife! To this day, they haven’t written; haven’t called. But the ultimate chagrin and mortification came when Galahad called me over the weekend.
He said the dogs are getting along just fine, but the embarrassment came when he reminded me that the main job of a dog was to eat, sleep, scratch where it itches, and be dumber than you. So, Galahad asked – (and I will never forgive him for this), “WHY ARE THE DOGS RETIRED TO ARIZONA BEFORE YOU ARE?!?!