The Guys Go to the Vet

Our big dog Croc, was due for his vaccines and checkup.  Of course, a fellow in his geriatric glory would have other problems to address.  His thyroid levels are always jumping around, so he has skin issues.  He was right on time with extra complaints for this visit.  He has bald spots and irritated skin.  His thyroid didn’t stop his toenails from growing.  They were long!  I’ve given up on cutting them.  It’s like sawing a tree.  Besides, our little dog Izzy tries to eat the pieces as they snap off.  I can’t handle both challenges. 

Izzy, our little guy has been expressing his manhood, so I scheduled him for neutering the day before, so I could make one trip do.  I always dread taking Croc in anyway.  He’s so big, I have trouble managing.  The last time, he snatched me down.  I bumped my head on the curb and my glasses flew off.  As I felt around for them, I found a pile of steaming poo.  Croc probably dropped it there for me after tugging me down.

We talked about behavior before we got out of the truck and he went straight in.  A beautiful,big girl dog in an interesting condition was waiting politely with her owner.  Croc was desperate to greet her, but the owner was terrified.  I kept Croc under control, but he was so enamored of the lady dog he howled as they left.  I don’t know what he thought he could do as a neutered fellow, but I believe he was prepared to lie.  He was totally unconcerned about being fat and balding.

All’s well that ends well.  Croc got his exam and vaccines and lost seven pounds.  Izzy left without testicles. $837.32 later, I took them to Sonic for their reward.  Croc gobbled down his Pup Cup while Izzy refused his.  Agreeable as always, Croc took care of it for him.

Bumps in the Road Part 5

Bill made it his business to find out about Kathleen.  She shared a room with her old maid sister at the Clarksville hotel, which also functioned as a boarding house.  She heard she already had a boyfriend, but taking care of that wasn’t much of a hill for a climber. He called for her at the hotel.  The clerk called up the stairs.  “Miss Kathleen, you got a call.” 

Kathleen and her boyfriend, Gene, had tentative plans to go to the movies., if he got back in time from his delivery run.  She really wanted to go to the movie and if he didn’t call now, it would be too late.  She was already mad when the clerk called up the stairs.  Gene had stood her up one too many times getting back too late! “Miss Kathleen, you got a call.” Relieved, she grabbed her purse and a sweater and bounced down the stairs.

Grabbing the phone breathlessly, thinking it was Gene, she spoke impatiently, “I thought you’d never call.  I’ve been waiting for you!”

Bill cackled, anticipating her embarrassment. “Girl, if I’d known you wanted me to call that bad, I’d have called sooner!” She was mortified! 

“I thought you were somebody else!” she snapped, irritated, “my boyfriend, calling to take me to the movie.”

“Now don’t hang up!  I’ll take you to the movie.” Bill offered.

There was a bit of a backstory here.  Only sixty miles from Clarksville, Texas, in Texarkana, between February and May, 1946, The Phantom Killer had killed and maimed several couples, creeping up on them on parked cars on Lover’s Lanes.  One person was even attacked in her rural home.  Everyone was one edge. Women were warned not to go out with strangers and definitely not to go parking.  It was a terrifying time.

Gene had left her waiting one too many times. Though she knew she shouldn’t, she accepted his invitation.  The Phantom Killer operated around Texarkana, after all.  Bill picked her up in an impressive coupe. The only flaw was a missing door handle on the passenger side, so she had to slide in under steering wheel. Chiding herself, she climbed in and they were off.  This seemed like a bad idea.  She could never tell Annie or Mama and Daddy she’d gone out with a strange man.

Bill hadn’t eaten yet , so they decided to stop off for a bite, then catch the late movie.  They got there to late to get a close spot,  so they had to park on a side street, a couple of blocks from thee movie.  Kathleen thought nothing of this.  After the movie let out, Bill met a friend who was also leaving.  He stood and talked to his buddy for about twenty minutes before the friend got into his nearby car and drove away. The abandoned streets increased her anxiety as  they walked her to his lonesome car a few blocks away. Again, she had to  slide in on driver’s s side before edging as close as she could to the handleless door. He sat there quietly while lighting a cigarette. looking even bigger in the dark. She  knew then she had no business being alone with this man she didn’t know..  He exhaled, then turned to look at her and spoke softly, “What would you say if I told you I was the phantom Killer?”

She knew in that moment she was going to die, so she bluffed.  ” I have a gun in my purse.”

Realizing he had gone too far, Daddy folded.  “I had you fooled for a minute, didn’t I?” He  laughed starting the car.

She married him three weeks later.

Addendum:  Daddy couldn’t have been the killer.  He was working hundreds of miles away at the time.  The killer was never caught.

Familyisms

Like all families we employ time-honored phrases that seem nonsense to others:

“Don’t go crazy, Sue!” My cousin’s husband, a real doofus, employed this when he really messed up, intending to temper her reaction. example: He backed over the dog after she’d told him it had slipped out. It didn’t calm her down a bit.

“I don’t like what I wanted.” My three year-old-niece had a quarter. She’d been hounding her mom all morning to take her to the store. Finally, the time came. Chelsea ran up to the vending machine outside the store , popping her quarter in before Mom could stop her. Out popped a tacky little plastic car. Furious with disappointment , smashed it to the ground. Mom chided her. “I thought you wanted a prize out of the machine!”

Chelsea spouted back, “I don’t LIKE what I wanted.”

That phrase is perfect for so many of our choices in life!

“It couldn’t be helped.” Mother is a ditz, scatterbrained and chronically behind in whatever she had to do. When the beans burned, she forgot to pick a kid up at basketball practice, forgot to stub a check, or messed up in any way, she justified it by saying, “It couldn’t be helped.”. This was rarely true.

“It’s starting to get some better.”. Daddy was a hypochondriac.  When he managed a malady, he clung to it tenaciously. About two weeks after wasps stings, Mother facetiously asked how it was.  Mistaking her sarcasm for concern, he replied, “It’s starting to get some better.”

“The head’s as dangerous as the rest of it!”. My sister was warning us to stay away from a decapitated snake.  “Stay away from that snake head!  It’s as dangerous as the rest of it!” Duh!

“Only fools f___s with snakes.”. A guy Bud worked with coined this wisdom.  Since we had little kids at the time we had to amend it.

” I salted it, but not enough.”. Mother was the master of confusion.  Putting a plates of eggs on the table one morning, she advised us, ” I salted them, but not enough.”. Where do you go from there?  Salt or don’t salt.  By the time you decide, your egg’s half gone.

Sunday at the Swain’s

Mother was a true Daughter of the Bible Belt. Daddy was a man of the “Old South. Mother’s regular days were demanding, but preparation for Sundays was brutal. There were five children in our family;two older girls, the “big” girls then my brother, each three years apart. When my brother was five, my parents got reacquainted and had two more girls about a year apart, known as “little” girls. I quickly noticed the little girls had made a better decision than I when joining the family lineup. Their role was to be sweetly precious while the “big” girls were promoted to unpaid household help; sweeping, mopping, cooking, cleaning, evening farm chores. I didn’t care for any of that, but of course, I was conscripted, not a volunteer.

Mother’s life was unenviable by most standards. When her normal duties on late Saturday were done, it was time for us to get shoes polished, clothes starched and ironed, and baths and pin-curling done. I would have gladly foregone the torture of having my fine, lank hair slimed up with Dippity-Do, but my opinion was irrelevant. She hated having her girls show up on Sunday with stringy hair. Mother clenched me between her knees, wound my pre-slimed hair tightly around her finger and slid in criss-crossed Bobby -Pins to hold the recalcitrant curls in place. The pins wouldn’t have goudged a groove as they slid in had I had resisted the temptation to bite the plastic tips off the pins, but alas, I was a slow learner. The pin-curled mess was wrapped snugly in a scarf overnight to keep curls from working loose, leaving one straight sprig claiming independence from it’s frazzled friends. I hated the curly do that taunted me in the mirror the next morning. I can’t imagine why anyone would go to all the trouble to look so awful.

Pretty often, Daddy threw a monkey wrench into Mother’s organization by electing to take us all to visit his family until late Saturday evening, often not getting us home until long after all the kids had slumped into deep sleep. As he approached home, he threw the car windows open to shock the us awake since he didn’t like carrying somnolent kids in. Unwashed kids with dirty feet tumbled into bed in their clothes. Beds would be stripped Monday.

I was grateful to forego hairdos when we were out late. Kids got spitbaths after a quick breakfast That left Saturday night’s shoe-polishing, a panicked job before Sunday school. Without fail, at least one shoe went missing, ensuring a wild search. It was almost unheard of for all pairs to be found resting cozily together under the edge of the bed as they should have been. The shoe might have escaped to the fartherest corner of the house, yard, or perhaps been kicked off in the car. While Sunday School lessons read, offering nickels were stuffed in Sunday School Collection Envelopes. Amidst this mayhem, Mother or one of her lacksadaicsical lackies had to draw Daddy’s bath, and put the soap,washcloth, towel, and church clothes out. He always dawdled over coffee, late to his bath. We alway left late for church with him preaching all the way to church because “Y’all made me late! You need to get organized!” the perfect start to a lovely Sunday. I

Swain Kids I am girl in dark sweater in back row

Healing…….Noooo!

My children took frequently took advantage of one of my fatal discipline flaws. Should their behavior cross the line and require discipline, activating my funny bone rendered me useless. The pastor in our small Methodist Church offered healing by laying on of hands at the end of the regular Sunday Service. I suspect that was one of the few times John, age ten, had ever listened. He made a move as though he were heading to the front. I was totally surprised, and caught his arm, thinking he’d misunderstood
”Where are you going?” I asked.
”I’ve got a heat rash!” He giggled.
”Sit down.” He got me.

Sunday Funnies

This pastor decided to skip church one sunday morning and go play golf.

He told his assistant that he wasn’t feeling well. He drove to a golf course in another city, so nobody would know him.

He teed off on the first hole. A huge gust of wind caught his ball, carried is an extra hundred yards and dropped it right in the hole, for a 450 yard hole in one.

An angel looked at God and said “What’d you do that for?” God smiled and said “Who’s he going to tell?”

A Joke for a Sunday

Jesus was relaxing in Heaven when he noticed a familiar looking old man. Wondering if the old man was His father Joseph, Jesus asked him, “Did you, by any chance, ever have a son?”

“Yes,” said the old man, “but he wasn’t my biological son. He was born by a miracle, by the intervention of a magical being from the heavens.”

“Very interesting,” said Jesus. “Did this boy ever have to fight temptation?”

“Oh, yes, many times,” answered the old man. “But he eventually won. Unfortunately, he heroically died at one point, but he came back to life shortly afterwards.”

Jesus couldn’t believe it. Could this actually be His father?

“One last question,” He said. “Were you a carpenter?”

“Why yes,” replied the old man. “Yes I was.”

Jesus rubbed His eyes and said, “Dad?”

The old man rubbed his eyes and said, “Pinocchio?”

Sunday school teacher posed a question to her class, “If I were to sell my house, car, donate my possessions to charity, and give all my money to the church, would I get into heaven?”

The children unanimously replied, “No.”

The teacher then asked, “If I were to keep the church clean, mow the lawn, and keep everything neat and tidy, would I get into heaven?”

Once again, the answer was a resounding “No.”

Apparently perplexed, the teacher asked, “Well, then how can I get into heaven?

Johnny piped up”You have to be dead.”

One Sunday morning, Satan appeared before a small town congregation. Everyone started screaming and running for the front church door, trampling each other in a frantic effort to get away.

Pretty Soon, everyone was gone, except for an elderly gentleman who sat calmly. Satan walked up to the man and said, “Don’t you know who I am?”

The man replied, “Yep, sure do.”

Satan asked, “Aren’t you going to run?”

“Nope, sure ain’t,” said the man.

Perturbed, Satan asked, “Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

The man calmly replied, “Been married to your sister for over 48 years.”