Monthly Archives: December 2005

How to sweet-talk a girl

Posted on December 17, 2005 by Sarah| Comments Off

Several years back, while Greg and I were dating, I made him some chocolate-covered pretzels at Christmas. I used both dark and white chocolate. I even drizzled the pretzels with white chocolate that I had colored red and green. The pretezels were, I thought, a heart- and tummy-warming gift. But it turns out that Greg, who likes all types of food and will eat almost anything, doesn’t like chocolate-covered pretzels. Or chocolate-covered strawberries. Or any object coated in chocolate. (Ladies, you’re wondering how I could marry such a man, right?) He was too nice to tell me he didn’t like the pretzels, so he choked down as many as he could and gave the rest to his mom and sister. They adored the pretzels as any good women would.
Tonight, an intense hankering for chocolate inspired me to make a few chocolate-covered pretzels. We had to pry one from Abe’s mouth after I accidentally dropped it. Greg tried one and said it tasted pretty good.
“So you like chocolate-covered pretzels now?” I asked.
“These taste better than the other ones you made,” Greg said. “Maybe my tastes just weren’t refined enough before to enjoy them.”
“Your tastes weren’t refined enough?” I asked, eyebrows raised. “But even Abe likes the pretzels.”
“Yeah, but Abe eats poo. He likes everything.”
“Are you comparing my pretzels to poo?”

Compliments don’t come much higher than that!

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Posted in Conversations, Shenanigans

A pure heart?

Posted on December 16, 2005 by Sarah| Comments Off

Greg holds the opinion that dogs, especially Abe, are essentially good and only want to please humans. He believes that a dog will not deliberately do the wrong thing. Of course, he believes the same thing about computers. And anyone who has spent much time around me knows that I can cause a computer to crash just by looking at it funny.
A few days ago, we were following our usual morning routine. Greg let Abe outside and then let him back in a few minutes later. Abe usually waits patiently at my feet while I finish my cereal because he gets to lick the bowl at the end. But on this morning, Abe ran past me and up the stairs. He had a sense of purpose to his steps.
“What is he doing?” I asked. “Doesn’t he want to lick my bowl?”
“He’s smart,” Greg said. “He’s going back to bed.”
“But is he going back to his own bed OR back to our bed?” I asked.
I trudged up the stairs and headed toward the shower. I saw Abe, loyal, obedient, only-does-the-right-thing Abe, standing amid the rumpled sheets on our bed. He leapt off the bed and scurried down the stairs.
“Where was he?” Greg shouted from downstairs.
“Where do you think he was? Why would he feel the need to run away from me if he were in his own bed?”
Yes, Abe always wants to do the right thing … if we’re watching.

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Posted in Abe, Conversations

Wide open doorways

Posted on December 14, 2005 by Greg| Comments Off

Our last house was a glorious house that we loved and miss dearly. There was one problem that we had with it though: The front door, if the wind was strong enough, would not stay shut.

One winter night when the wind was especially strong, I heard a strange whooshing sound. I decided to disregard it, but it came back a minute later. I walked out of the office and looked around. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but the house did feel cold. I walked further into the center of the house until I could see the front door. It was wide open. Winston was walking back into the house! My stomach dropped. Winston is always trying to leave and explore the outdoors, but he is an indoor cat. And he rarely comes back on his own from those adventures. For him to be walking in now meant that the door must have been open for a long time.

And where was Abe?

I ran out into the cold and called Abe. I even yelled out that I had some treats for him. No response. I had lost our dog. I ran back in to the house, put on some shoes, and grabbed a flashlight and some treats. Meanwhile, Winston attempted to get out again. I had to lock him in the laundry room. I ran down the street looking for Abe. How could I have lost our dog? What would Sarah say? Why didn’t our door stay shut?

As I approached the corner, I saw a man in the distance jogging down the street. He had a little dog running next to him. As he got closer, the dog dashed toward me. It was Abe! Abe had gotten loose, found some human out and about, and just ran next to him.

I don’t know how long he was out, or what would have happened if that jogger had decided to go the other way instead. I do know that when we got back Winston was looking disapointed. Winston is not his brother’s keeper.

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Posted in Abe