Now where do you suppose that came from?
It all started out backstage at some musical and I was in charge of making navy blue pants and handing them out. So I get my pants organized and there I am flinging pants at people who are asking what the pants are for to which I reply I have no idea, I was just told to make the pants. There is massive pant confusion and men trading pants with each other and giggling (yeah, that’s right).
All of a sudden this woman walks in and orders me to make a white shirt (very uncreative costuming for this musical, I have to say) for the production that has already begun. And, by the way, she says, it has to make the wearer fly – no strings allowed. I tell her I can’t defy gravity in a half hour. She starts arguing with the guys about the pants, so I leave to check on the puppies at home (knew we’d get there eventually).
So I go home and my friends, wine mentors and Knowers-of-where-all-my-stuff-is-including-the-blue-plate April and Steve, have been watching the puppies. Steve complains to April that he’d offered me a glass of wine and I wouldn’t take it (in reality, I am limiting myself to one drink a week since I’ve noticed alcohol really messes with my blood sugar).
Then I go to check on the puppies and all is well there and Zsa Zsa is compliantly nursing them, which is how I know this is a dream and not reality. I leave the room and am greeted by a Cocker Spaniel.
Now this is where Dirtman’s behavior since the birth of the puppies comes into play. In order to appreciate the following, you have to understand that he is only a dog person by marriage. He didn’t grow up with dogs and didn’t want a dog when we got married. It took awhile for me to convince him that having one dog does not a dog person make. He has been tolerant and helpful and very, very understanding over the years, but you could never call him enthusiastic about dogs.
Since the puppies were born, Dirtman has become an all-out fanatic. He documents the puppies’ weight on a little chart. He picks each and every one up and cuddles them. He makes plans for all the things he and Hokie are going to do as soon as he’s weaned. They’re going to go to work together; he’s going to show him in the ring; he’s going to train him for rally.
So – back to the dream – I ask Dirtman (who is suddenly there and April and Steve are not) where the Cocker Spaniel came from and suddenly see a Brittany Spaniel there with her puppies. Dirtman is telling me about how he’s collected all these dogs with their puppies when I notice a Schnauzer whose puppy is a Wired Hair Fox Terrier (it’s a dream…work with me here).
I look out the back door and the yard is full of nursing puppies: a Golden Retriever litter, a German Shepherd Dog litter; lots and lots of Aussies.
I note that there are no Bernese Mountain Dogs (since Cindy, the Provider of the Whelping Box of the Big Dog Head, is whelping her Berner litter at the same time we are whelping Zsa Zsa’s litter) because, I point out, everyone I know has a Bernese Mountain Dog (actually, only Cindy and the owner of Blue Ribbon Acres Kennel, Jen).
Strangely, Dirtman has no answer to this.
I woke up in a euphoric state, having realized my dream of making Dirtman as caninely obsessive as myself.
By the way, I was awakened at that moment by Topper, who knows how to open doors (he’s like the raptors in
*Famous opening line from Rebecca.