Earlier this month the Alpha Japanese Female (AJF) celebrated a birthday. She’s not a big fan of birthdays; even less a fan of admitting that each one represents another year gone by.
I tell her to relax and enjoy them. A year spent vertical is clearly better than the alternative.
Besides, it gives me an opportunity to give her gifts and take her to dinner and a movie and overall thank her for being my spouse, cooking dinner, buying beer and important stuff like that. Especially the beer part.
Accompanying my birthday offerings was a genuine Hallmark card that I found in the drugstore in a section marked “excessively mushy. ” Of course I added some sweet nothings.
By the way, have you checked the prices of cards these days? Holy macaroni and that doesn’t include a stamp. But I digress.
Max (with a little help since he lacks opposable thumbs) decided to get in on the action so he also chose a birthday card for his DogMom and wrote a short inscription.
It was not well received.
Max’s rash decision cost me plenty. To soothe the ruffled AJF’s fur I had to cough up for dinner at our favorite, albeit unimaginatively-named, French restaurant “Le Gourmet.”
Youngest daughter came along as she often does when free food is mentioned. When told about Max’s card the ladies jointly decided that fair compensation for the AJF’s suffering was ordering the most expensive menu choices and topping that off with soufflés (French for “eggs, air and money”) and Poire Belle Hélène (“Helen’s over priced pear”).
Dinner was lovely but Max was not yet forgiven. When we returned home, instead of a nice warm DogMom lap, he was exiled to the cold granite of the coffee table amidst the remotes and bottles of spring water.
Categories: The Dog From Rancho Cucaracha