Hey, it’s Deb…
We all have usual routines that get us through each day. Mine is a daily trip to Starbucks, each and every morning. I don’t skip. EVERRRRR. I get migraines when I don’t have caffeine, and so it’s been a 14-year habit. (An expensive one, if you ask my husband.)
And then there’s Cletus, my dog. His morning routine, every Saturday and Sunday, is to go for a ride in the car with my husband when he first wakes up. My husband’s fix each day is a fountain drink. (Seeing a caffeine pattern in our family?) It happens every weekend morning, like clockwork. As sure as Indiana weather changes by the minute, you count on Greg and Cletus heading out the door. One wants a fountain drink. The other wants to lick the wind from a slightly-open window. Seems easy enough.
So yesterday, when I got up to get my Starbucks, pick up some paint samples at Lowes and fill up my gas tank, I decided I would score points with my hubby by BRINGING HIM his fountain drink. After all, he sometimes grabs my coffee, so why not return the favor? So, I grabbed the oversized vat of a styrofoam cup, filled it up with Greg’s favorite soda, and drove home feeling like wifey-of-the-year. Okay, not really, but I did feel like maybe Greg would overlook my laundry piled like the leaning tower of Pisa, at least for one afternoon.
Greg was pleased with the drink, said thank you and something about how I saved him a trip from getting the drink himself. And it was at that moment we both realized my nice gesture wasn’t so great for everyone.
Definitely not Cletus.
He sat whimpering near the door, ready to leave like any other weekend morning, only for me to throw a wrench in his plans. But, he’s a dog…they get over these things, right?
WRONG.
Cletus continued to whimper. And stare Greg down until, finally, Greg caved. Yep. Greg suggested a quick car ride around the block would surely solve the problem, and off they went. A man and his dog.
And me and my laundry.
