It was a day like any other, filled with grocery shopping, kids, and ponderings on what to make for dinner. I came home from doing all three of those things, at once. My husband had a solemn look on his face and wanted to speak to me in the foyer, which I thought was weird because we really don’t have a foyer. Reluctantly I went, with thoughts of all of the things my animals (he won’t claim them) have done to devalue our house, messes the kids have made, and the things he’s done to piss me off recently. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about everything because it doesn’t take long to get to our non-existent foyer from the kitchen where I was first summoned. When we got there my first words were, “What did you do?” (Bad habit of mine, I immediately pass the blame.)
With tears in his eyes, he said…
“Joey, I’m so sorry.”
“I think Daisy is dead.”
“What do you mean, she’s dead”
I looked over at my oldest, most loyal dog lying on her pillow lifeless. I can’t help but start to cry, she’s my first animal as an adult to move on. Not to mention I’m pregnant and if the mailman stubbed his toe, I would cry. So, I bent down to gently touch her face and all of a sudden, she jumps up and looks around like a perky 4-year-old not an aging 14-year-old dog that is supposed to be dead.
Meanwhile, my husband jumps back and starts stammering something about how he tried to wake her for 30 minutes. How he checked her for a heartbeat and some sign of breathing. I’m looking at him with the biggest WTF expression on my face wondering what just happened. Did he really just tell me, his pregnant wife, that my dog was dead? I was so confused that I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I did both. While both of us are stunned for different reasons, Daisy is hopping around as if she just found the answer that she had been searching for the whole time she’s known my husband. It was as if she was quoting Sally Field’s Oscar acceptance speech for Places in the Heart in her head, “…and I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!”
You see, I don’t think my husband necessarily hates my animals. However, I really don’t think that he likes them very much. All right, I know that he doesn’t like them very much, because they are a lot of work (which I do by the way) and have done a lot of damage to our home. Never would I have expected to see any kind of tear duct action when it came to the demise of one of my animals. I am sure that Daisy didn’t expect it either. But, now she knows, we all know that he really likes her.