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Barking Dogs Seldom Talk

Updated on February 15, 2012

“And the crust needs some more cheese and a dash of chilly peppers…”

I stared at Lindsey as she slobbered up her slice of homemade pizza from last night and offered up advice on my cooking. Drat it! I have to wipe the floor off her saliva again.

For those who came late, Lindsey is not my mentally ill distant cousin whose parents have lodged her in my house as they go on their second honeymoon, but instead my son’s adopted dog. Yes, one will say that I am the one in need of a psychiatrist but believe me when I say that I consulted one when she first talked to me. My shrink doesn’t believe me even though I have shown her a video of Lindsey and her theatrics. What in the name of God is Photoshop that she keeps blabbering about? And what does photos have to do with a video?

“The toppings are fine but I am sure it could do with some more meat…”

“Can you eat without dripping everywhere?” I snapped at the dog.

She gave me mournful eyes and said, “No one appreciates good advice these days.”

I resisted the urge to throw my empty plate at her. I will not allow anyone to pin animal cruelty along with schizophrenia on me.

When the last crumb was eaten, Lindsey nudged her bowl away with her wet nose and sat back on her haunches. Then she fixed such a serious look on her face that it scared the shit out of me.

“What?” I asked nervously. Surely she hadn’t caught me drying my underwear in the microwave. That would be embarrassing and don’t judge before you know the whole story.

Lindsey said, “I was in Tim’s room the other day.”

I laughed out in relief. She was in my son’s room every day. I had once propositioned her to spy on him for me but she had starkly refused to do so. It still smarted my ego to be told off by a dog.

“He was talking on the phone with his new sweetheart.”

My ears pricked up high. New sweetheart? What went wrong with Susan? I liked her.

“Who is it?” I asked.

Lindsey replied, “Someone named Jamie.”

Jamie. Nice name. But I liked girls to have proper girl’s names. These unisex names got on my nerves whenever I got them wrong in a different situation.

“How do you know that’s Tim’s new sweetheart?”

Lindsey shrugged, couldn’t pull it off since dogs don’t have it in them, and answered, “The way Tim was talking made my ears blush. And I am a bitch.”

I winced. I didn’t want Tim engaging in these activities before he turned eighteen. God knows guys like younger girls.

“What else?” I asked energetically.

The bitch gave me knowing eyes and made out of the room with her tail wagging behind her. I hate that dog!

Later in the evening when we all sat down to eat dinner, I observed Tim. He definitely looked happier than ever. Maybe this Jamie was better than Susan. Or maybe they had gone ahead and done the deed. Oh my head, it will burst!

“What’s wrong mom?” Tim asked me.

I smiled and replied, “Nothing dear. Just wondering that its been a long time since you brought any friend home.”

He blushed and said, “I made a new friend.”

Aww, that is so cute. I knew that Tim didn’t know that he blushed often.

“What’s her name?” I asked with a straight face.

“His name is Jamie.”

The world crashed around me. Hoy green guacamole! Tim was gay! Oh no! Oh the nightmare of nightmares! I wanted grandchildren not a son-in-law. The image gave me shudders.

Lindsey wagged past me without a word. I gave her the evil eye. This was one situation where ignorance would have been bliss if it had not been for a certain freak of nature. Next stop- dog pound.


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