Papa’s Wife invited us over for dinner, she was cooking The Boyfriend’s ‘favorite’ her couscous.
The Boyfriend was looking forward to the meal, I was looking forward to a nice relaxing evening that I didn’t have to prepare and clean up after.
Getting ready to leave, The Boyfriend grabbed the car keys and Fifty.
I wanted to leave Fifty at home but The Boyfriend insisted we bring him so he could play with Leo (Leah the jack russell’s more hyperactive brother).
Fine, but I made him promise that he would keep an eye on him. Fifty has a habit of jumping on, and almost knocking over the 88 year old grandmother and I really didn’t want to spend the evening with one eye on the wine and one eye on the puppy.
And to let you know… besides Ruby, Papa’s favorite hunting dog, and Leo, the hyperactive jack russell, there is also 15 year old knocking on death’s door dog named Callie, and some wiry little dog, I can never remember the name of. So they’ve got four dogs, and three very fat cats. That’s a lot of Purina.
We arrived at Papa’s and as we approached the gates to the garden I heard a lot of barking. With four dogs this isn’t uncommon, but it just seemed like more. Papa’s Wife greeted us at the gate, looked at Fifty and sighed. Strange considering she loves Fifty (even got him a Christmas present). The sigh became understandable when we walked in and I saw two other dogs; Leah, and her and Leo’s sire, Pitain. The Boyfriend’s Brother had gone skiing and left his two dogs at Papa’s house for the week. So before adding our puppy to the mix, there were already six dogs and Fifty made it lucky number seven, and three fat cats.
I bid adieu to my relaxing evening.
It was anything but relaxing.
The barking did not stop.
Callie, the old dog decided she wasn’t happy and barked for the hell of it, even though her cataracts meant she was pretty much just barking at the air. And every time she barked, Papa would respond with a loud, “arrêt!” (stop).
Bark. Arrêt! Bark. Arrêt! Bark. Arrêt!
You get the picture.
The wiry dog was picking fights with any dog that crossed his path. Probably angry that no one ever remembers his name.
The fat cats looked like they were on the verge of having kitty strokes as they perched on any surface out of reach of the dogs.
Fifty decided to torment the placid Ruby, just to try to get a rise out of him. He succeeded.
The three jack russells were barking in unison. I think they may have even been trying to harmonize.
And then just for fun, Fifty peed twice and pooped once, in the living room.
During a rare two minutes of quiet when we were all actually seated at the table and not chasing and yelling at dogs, and pulling them off fat cats and 88 year old grandmothers, I finally noticed the lovely centerpiece of roses;
“What beautiful roses”
Papa’s Wife smiled, “Thank you, they were for my birthday.”
“Oh, when was your birthday?”
I gave the Boyfriend my best ‘just wait until we get home’ look and shrank into my chair.
At least Fifty had been kind enough to leave all those presents in the living room.
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