The King reigns

MY MOTHER hits her children with a double-whammy in May.

Mother’s Day is usually first and then she decides to have her birthday about a week later. She has her nerve!

This year I’ve decided to be the particle daughter in the gift giving department and will have her carpets cleaned in lieu of a basket of flowers or perfume. My mother is one lucky lady!

The reason for the carpet cleaning is my parents’ dog Rocky. He does not know how to wipe his feet and he loves to track up the floors. He gets away with it because he is spoiled. Very, very, very spoiled!

And I am not alone in this deduction. All three of my siblings agree.

We see it every day.

The little bichon frise cries because he has to go to the doggie doctor … he cries and gets ice cream. When we went to the doctor and cried, we got reprimanded and, if we were lucky, it ended there.

The little darling has to go to the groomer and he pouts for days and gets the special treatment. If my siblings and I would pout because of a hair cut one of our parents would look at us and say, “Get over it!”

Yep, this is one spoiled puppy!

Now, the Parental Units had no clue they wanted a dog about 10 years ago. However, their observant offspring knew a dog was exactly what they needed. We fetched them up about about 15 pounds of fur and we’ve paid the price ever since!

Ma and Pa can’t go anywhere for any length of time because “Rocky is home all by himself!” They refuse to attempt any overnight travels because “Rocky would just be so sad at the kennel.” And, don’t even try to convince them that a vacation would be fun because “Rocky would miss us too much!”

Good golly, Mom and Dad! He doesn’t know how long you are gone, he can’t tell time. It doesn’t have to be all about Rocky.

Now, I’m sure he does miss them but he isn’t going to remember that they were gone on Tuesday for a few hours.

Or, will he?

According to my folks, he does!

Rocky may just be the smartest little canine in the area. After listening to their tales about “the dog on a pedestal” I believe he wears a wrist watch. I think he carries a log book and marks down their departure and returns in military times. He not only knows how long they are gone but expects a treat upon their return!

He is a wonder dog!

OK. I realize that I may sound a little jealous but I’m not. My thoughts are justified.

For instance, there was the time I was driving my parents to northern Ohio to look at something they wanted to purchase for their home. Since we were going to be gone for more than just a few minutes, it was necessary that Rocky went along.

The fun and games began when we went through the drive thru at a local eatery.

“Get what you want,” my poppa said.

“Okey dokey,” I replied. “I know what I want. What do you want?”

“I want one of those breakfast things that I like,” he said, thankfully narrowing my choices down to the breakfast menu.

“Me, too,” my mother chipped in.

I merely guessed at the thing that they wanted.

“What do you guys want to drink?” I asked.

“Black coffee,” they said in unison.

Thinking I have this “in the bag,” I place the order at the drive thru window and, in my innocence, I ordered myself JUST a cup of water.

Cha-ching! Ring it up. My first mistake of the day.

“You know they charge you for that water,” my father said after I paid for our order.

“Yes, yes I do,” I said.

“I wouldn’t pay for a cup of water,” he said.

“I know you wouldn’t,” I said.

“Cost you a whole quarter,” he continued.

I ignored him.

“Just can’t believe someone would pay for water,” he muttered. “They charge you 25 cents for water. Unbelievable!”

Continuing my temporary case of deafness, I moved up to the pickup window with my father and Rocky both in the back seat. Pap kept muttering about the cup of water. I kept ignoring him.

The constant reminder of the “ridiculous” fee for a mere cup of water continued until we reached my daughter’s house and headed out to see the stuff we had traveled to see.

We puttered around for the next four or five hours and then decided it was once again time to eat.

The caravan (Elisabeth’s family in one vehicle, me and the parents and KING ROCKY in another) pulled up to a restaurant.

“We can’t go in,” said my mother. “We will just wait here.”

“What?” I asked. “Why can’t you go in?”

“We have Rocky,” she replied.

“It’s not hot. We can leave a window cracked,” I said. “He’ll be fine!”

“No,” my father said. “We can’t leave him. I’ll wait in the car.”

“For crying out loud,” I muttered under my breath and then told my daughter and son-in-law to pack their children back into the car and head for a drive thru.

Off we go, searching for a place that was convenient for THE dog!

Finally, after discovering the perfect place, I asked what they would like to have to eat.

Mom gives me her wishes, Dad places his order and then … just as I am about to place my order Dad says, “And a cup of water for Rocky!”

“What?” I screamed. “He gets a cup of water after I had to listen to you for over 45 minutes complain because I wanted water!”

And, suddenly I realized. I was jealous of a dog! After years of telling my parents that my siblings and I were not jealous, I now knew that I was.

I REALLY was the low man on the totem pole.

Enjoy your reign, King Rocky! (And … Happy Birthday, Mom!)

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