It was not unlike any other Wednesday afternoon. I got out of work a little early and was sitting outside with my best friend, Bear. He was busy sniffing the Decatur air, while I contemplated what I was going to stick a fork into and call my dinner.
I could hear the diesel engine of my Dad’s truck as it turned down the Decatur road we live on, and my best friend Bear stopped sniffing the air and made his way to the gate. Dad was home, and we all know what that means:
Bear was getting his sammich!
Dad always leaves him half a sandwich as a prize. A prize for what, you ask? I’m not sure, but it’s been a tradition in the house for the past seven years, and I’m not going to be the one to ask why! It’s just part of the community here at DuBayVille.
One I’ll miss when he or I or him or all of us is gone.
So we made our retreat to the house, where Bear sat on the lived in, trampled on, carpet in the living room. Perched on his big fat legs, he panted and panted … but waited patiently as Dad went through the routine. It was his sandwich, sure … but, he wasn’t going to get it just like that.
“I love you,” Bear barked, clear as day.
“What’s that, buddy”, Dad responded.
“I love you,” Bear said again.
Dad leaned over, held his hand out. “Shake, boy” and Bear put his right paw on Dad’s left hand. Dad switched hands, Bear switched paws. They did this for fourteen rotations, until Bear barked. Not “I love you”, this time.
No, I won’t type what he barked. Potty mouth.
And he got his sandwich.
Then Dad turned to me and asked “Do we need beer”.
“I love you,” I said.
He didn’t get the joke. So I said yes.
We drove down to the store where I purchased an 18 pack of Miller Lite and a bag of dog treats. These vortex bottles Miller Lite has come out with … genius. As we were about to pull out of the gas station, I noticed a little boy playing close to the street.
He was in a world of his own – you know, the world of an innocent little child, not held hostage by bad decisions. Well, I wanted that world to continue for him. I didn’t want his innocence to be destroyed on that street by some idiot on a cell phone planning their big night out.
So I told Dad to stop for a sec. I rolled my window down and said, “Hey little guy, why don’t you move up into your yard little guy. Don’t want you to get hurt.”
He looked up at me. Didn’t say anything. Moved back from the road. Didn’t say anything. So i started to roll my window up. That’s when he said something. But I couldn’t understand what He said. Probably thanking me, I’m sure.
So I rolled my window down, to get my thank you.
“What’s that little guy?”
“Weave me awone”.
Well, at least his parents taught him not to talk to strangers.
