Sex Ed in Higher Ed

College instructor teaching human sexuality rants about the dumbing down of America, the lost art of manners, grammar and (the perfect combination of both) the thank you note. Also includes random rants about life, pet peeves, and sometimes raves about favorite things.

Friday, January 12, 2007

A Trip Down Memory Lane Inspired by Guilt

Minnie is SO not loving having another dog around. Let me rephrase that. Minnie hates Bugger so much that if she could speak, she would say to me, "You ruined my life, you ignorant slut." In fact, yesterday Brady was shamelessly pandering for some cuddles and just as I leaned down to pet him, Minnie walked in the room. I swear, the look on her dog face was the same look female actresses use when they're portraying a character who walks into her own home to find her husband in bed with another woman. Horror. Heartbreak. Disgust. Disbelief. Then again, perhaps I'm giving Minnie too much credit. Or not enough credit to the likes of Markie Post and Tori Spelling.

My hope was that after fostering Bugger for a while, we'd just sign the papers and say, "Yeah, we're just a bunch of suckers for a fuzzy face and a bouncy gait. We'll take him." But Minnie is struggling with sharing me with any other dog-like entity. And I feel pretty damn bad about that.

Then I think about my own childhood and I feel even worse! After all, I am doing to Minnie what was done to me, lo these 32 years ago, when my parents dethroned my only-child ass by bringing home a baby brother. I can still vividly recall the evening: I had been spending days at my grandmother's house and evenings at my beloved Nana's house while my poor mother was in the hospital with her 3-week-overdue pregnant stomach. During dinner at Nana's, the phone rang. A few minutes later, Nana hung up and whooped with her characteristic enthusiasm, "Hooray! You have a baby brother!" and then she picked me up, hugging me and spinning me around. She set me down and I can still remember looking at her doubtfully. "Are you sure?" I said, "Because I was really hoping we could get a dog instead." She probably laughed and hugged me again and gave me a great pep talk about the joys of being a big sister - I don't remember, but I do remember I wasn't buying it. If being a big sister was so great, why did everybody go for the hard sell?

That night I had a very vivid dream during which the Blue Fairy of Pinocchio fame (don't ask) told me that my new baby brother would immediately need some Flintstones chewable vitamins and an overnight bag that was soft like a stuffed animal. The next morning my dad came to pick me up and bring me back home where the intruder baby and my mother were waiting for us. In the car on the way home, I told my dad I was ready to assume big sister responsibilities and thus, we would need to stop at the drug store and pick up some Flintstones chewables and then a nice soft overnight bag.

Heaven bless my father. That man didn't protest. Hell, he didn't even blink. Here's a man with a four-and-a-half year old daughter who's clearly already headed for the loony bin and a giant blob/baby impersonator waiting at home with an exhausted wife and what did he do? He drove us straight to the nearest Revco (I believe) and plunked down some of his hard-earned cash for Flintstones chewables and an overnight bag that was shaped like a lady-bug. No questions asked. Because I guess it was more important to him that my request - although inspired by a fairy-tale character - seem reasonable to me. And perhaps because he wanted me to get off to a good start with my big-sister responsibilities. Or maybe he didn't want me to feel stupid and insignificant in light of the new family situation. I don't know. Maybe I'll ask him one of these days.

So if Minnie tells me that Bugger needs an overnight bag and some Flintstones chewable vitamins, and she knows this because a fairy-princess told her during a dream, I am all over it.



Blogger firstcitybook said...

What a funny and appropriate anecdote, Teacher Lady.

I'm personally a cat person and have four cats in the house and a couple of other ones that come to the front or back door to beg for food. One of the strays sits outside the backdoor and stares into the house, watching the indoor cats get fed and loved. My wife gives all of our cats human characteristics--what is referred to in literature as the pathetic fallacy. I'm not saying that your attributing emotion to your dog is pathetic; it was a modernist concept to name the feeling that way.

If you don't mind, can I bring your attention to the controversy regarding the location of the g-spot, something related to your discipline, perhaps, by referring you to the following: You can possibly consider this link as supplemental and fyi.

January 12, 2007 6:03 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Who knows, dogs sometimes aren't all that different from people. Take her to Petsmart and see if she picks something out for him or if she just hangs out in the girl clothing section. LOL

Hopefully she'll get better. You haven't had him there very long, maybe she'll warm up to him yet.

January 12, 2007 8:12 PM  
Blogger ProfessorDog said...

That's a wonderful story. Any time I need to go "awwwww" today I'm going to think "Flintstones chewable vitamins and overnight bag."

January 13, 2007 5:20 AM  
Blogger Art Nerd Lauren said...

I had a similar reaction to my sister coming home from the hospital with mom. Well, in that I was not so thrilled- when my dad came to get me at my aunt's house, I blew raspberries at him and said "I stay here". I was two, what do you want?!

I think Minnie needs more time, though. When we brought our kittens Rufus and Blanche home, our original cat, Hariette, kept me up 3 nights camped out by their cage, hissing at them. In a few short weeks, though, she was taking care of them, grooming them and herding them around the house. That last one I can't say for certain is normal, but Hariette thinks she's people.

So that was my long-winded way of saying, things might change. It's got to be good for Miss Minnie to have some change in her life, or then you're that dog mother who can't do anything because of the dog. Right?

January 13, 2007 10:34 AM  
Blogger Her Bad Mother said...

I almost stopped reading after discovering that you have a foster-dog named Bugger, because that caused me to laugh so hard that I spit red wine onto my bathrobe. Happily, I kept reading, because it got funnier. Now I have to go wash my bathrobe.

January 13, 2007 10:53 PM  
Blogger Peach said...

that was hilarious and adorable LOL thats how my aunts dog acted when we got the cat

January 15, 2007 1:40 PM  

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