As the gently falling snow silently mounts upon the trees we
planted this summer snapping off the tender young branches, we are reminded it
is once again that time of year to renew our health insurance.
Spring began on a sad note as the most beloved member of the
family fell prey to a careless driver.
Taffy was a friend, companion, and tireless beggar. Belonging to a rare breed of short-haired
bacon retrievers bred in the middle ages to help huntsmen track wild boar, it
is widely believed Taffy could sniff out a single rasher of bacon sealed in an
airtight container at the bottom of the ocean blindfolded. Given her proclivity for exploration and
confrontational nature, all were certain she would meet her eventual demise at
the jaws of a coyote, or we might one day find a Taffy-colored owl pellet in
the yard. Her unanticipated appointment
with fate was sudden, shocking, and a tragedy none will soon forget.
Owing to her abhorrence of equilibrium, it didn’t take long
for Amanda to decide it was time for K & M’s brief reprieve from the added
cost and responsibility of dog ownership to come to an unceremonious end. Taking a break from her nonstop research into
finding a cure for unfashionable footwear, Amanda aimed her Safari at pet
rescue sites.
They say pets resemble their owners, which is probably why
Amanda fell in love with a skinny, easily bored African American puppy with a
sinus condition. A Carin Terrier/Border
Collie mix (with trace DNA of nanny goat and raccoon), Maggie is too lazy to
sit up straight, too clumsy to walk up the stairs without tripping, and enjoys running
spastically around the house while gnawing the faces off plush squeaker
toys. Unlike Taffy, Maggie is a
herbivorous canine preferring fruits & vegetables, tree bark, and an
occasional helping of potting soil to meat.
And whereas Taffy was a bossy, smart-as-a-whip alpha, Maggie is more on
the order of a high school cheerleader – off the charts cute and spunky, but with
all the brains of an eggplant.When she isn’t cleaning dog snot off the windows, Karen spends her free time bonding with her new friend. Although she exchanged her little blond shadow for a little black one, as Amanda is quick to remind us, it’s not the color of Maggie’s fur, but what’s inside that counts – which, from what we can tell is a lot of poop and acorns.
Speaking of acorns, in August, while the rest of the nation battled
hurricanes and floods, we were besieged by a bumper crop of acorns. Like a plague from Exodus, acorns rained down
upon us for two weeks; pelting all like Chicken Little but without Henny Penny or
Ducky Lucky to warn the king of the falling sky. We are anxious to see the oak forest sprout
up next spring.
In more pet news, one day during dinner, Karen and Amanda noticed
a non-indigenous, domesticated finch at our birdfeeder. Convinced the tiny bird had no hope of
surviving on its own given the many dangers of freedom, the girls promptly captured
and caged it. Sadly, owing to Maggie’s habit
of staring at Gigi like Sylvester the Cat, then bursting into paroxysms of
violent barks every time the poor creature moved a feather (more often than not
when Mark was on a conference call), sending Gigi ricocheting around her cage
like a pinball, Karen had no choice but to donate her to a local cat shelter. (True story.)
In an event which set Franco-American relations back to the
pre-Spaghetti-O era (uh, oh!), in October the Laynes played host to an exchange
student from France. Although Lucie
spoke not a lick of English, it was nice having another pair of hands around
the house; our toilets were never so clean nor our silverware more shiny. Expecting quid pro quo when Amanda visits
there next spring, we hope Lucie’s parents won’t be too disappointed with Amanda’s
lack of enthusiasm for domestic responsibilities. In preparation for her trip, Amanda is
working hard to master the phrases, “Where’s my food?” “Why isn’t this laundry
folded?” and, “I need your credit card,” en Francais.
In other Amanda news, with college looming on her horizon, she’s
applied to and been accepted by a half dozen major universities. Based on visits this past year, she has
determined that SoCal is too hilly, Florida too hot, and Michigan too cold. Despite her father’s anti-Saban-ism, it seems
only Alabama is just right as it offers her desired course of study in Public
Relations with minors in Communications, Psychology, Fashion Design, Criminal
Justice, and Medieval Literature. Although
it seems like a lot of education for a kid who wants to be a dog food taster,
it’s looking more and more like Amanda is about to become her Aunt Leslie’s
problem. (Roll Tide -- now with bleach!) Ally is already making plans
to redecorate Amanda’s room. We hope Amanda
will eventually grow fond of rainbows and unicorns.
Speaking of Ally, when she isn’t travelling to far off,
exotic ball diamonds in Florida, Michigan, Tennessee, Indiana, and Kankakee, or
finding new and ingenious ways of clogging the toilet, she devotes much free time
to memorizing clever lines from SpongeBob and watching videos of tone-deaf evangelists sing on YouTube. Of all the
no account, uninteresting years in her 14 years on this earth, Ally graduated
eighth grade, enrolled at a private Catholic high school half an hour from home
(where she knows nobody but which features a softball program superior to the
local public school up the street), switched travel teams, found a new pitching
coach, and changed her underwear – all between May and August. K & M refused to let her dye her hair lest
the world no longer recognize her.
As we prepare to enter 2018, the Chinese year of the dog,
let us recall that Mark Twain once remarked, “If you pick up a starving dog and
make him prosperous, he will not bite you.
This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.”
Merry Christmas to All, and to
All Good Grief,