As I am writing this, I am watching our dog, Betty…AKA Betty with the Good Hair, following my darling husband all around The Big Top.
Tonight she has a good excuse because in spite of the fact that she is wearing her Thundershirt and has taken some doggy Xanax , she is stressed. Thank you every single Fourth of July Yahoo out there pre-gaming as they set off their illegal fireworks. ‘Merica! You do you, you quasi-patriotic yahoos.
If she wasn’t so stressed out she would still be by his side right now. Curled up at his feet. Likely sleeping; but with one eye open at the ready to jump up and do whatever my darling husband wants…go for a walk…get a doggy treat…go for a walk…perform her one trick…go for a walk…the possibilities are practically endless and she must be ready.
I call her Betty with the Good Hair waiting for my darling husband to get the Lemonade reference because how could anyone NOT. Betty loves my darling husband. She adores him. She will use her amazing herding skills to herd me out of the way because she loves him THAT much. It is then that I flash my wedding ring and hiss he has been mine for more than 33 years years and he still is, Betty with the Good Hair! And don’t forget, I have opposable thumbs!
My darling husband chuckles.
But when it comes to absolute, complete, total devotion, perhaps Betty with the Good Hair has me beat.
I love my darling husband and I do look forward to his coming home at the end of the day; but you won’t find me where she is…waiting…pretty much all day…waiting for Bill to come home at the end of the day. She judges me if I am not as stressed as she can be if he is even just 20 minutes late because of traffic. She will pace and pause looking at the door and pace some more and whine a little and look at me with judging eyes that almost shriek, Don’t you care that he is late??? Why are you not even a little bit worried???
Sometimes I’ll answer back reminding her of the fact that I have opposable thumbs…that can text our man.