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Crazy D is hard on chairs. Wooden kitchen chairs. He cannot for the life of him sit on a chair with all four legs touching the floor. Instead, he tips it back on the rear legs until he is teetering precariously in the air. He looks a lot like a motorcycle rider doing a wheelie.

This habit has long driven me, Gill, and L’il Sis crazy. I tried, years ago, to stop him — all to no avail. So I eventually adapted a ‘don’t sweat the small stuff’ attitude and bought felt sticky pads for the legs of the chairs. They worked for a while but he eventually wore down the pads with his wheelies. By that time, I had lost the will. Gill arrived home and asked, “Why the hell are you playing Easy Rider at the kitchen table, Crazy D?” Turning her attention to me after no response (except a noncommittal shrug) from her brother, she railed: “Why don’t you put some pads on the legs? At least then we wouldn’t hear the grating, scraping noise on the floor.” Having received an ‘I’ve given up’ shrug from me, she grabbed the car keys and raced out to procure same to put us out of our misery, hearing-wise. Same thing happened. Crazy D wore down the new set. But Gill had left the country and ceased to care. That happens a lot around here, I’ve noticed.

Enter L’il Sis. Being a handy sort and not one to let an irritation go unaddressed, she again purchased felt pads for his chair legs. They lasted a week. I didn’t even bother to fill her in on the past history (although I know the platitude about being destined to repeat the past etc.) since I knew where we were headed with this.

Sure enough, the scraping began anew.

“What the hell?” she raged at Crazy D. “What’s the matter with you? I just put those pads on and look at what you’ve done!” With a yank that landed him on the floor, she upended the chair to display his crime. “They’re worn down to a pulp!”

Just then, in wandered The Pig (her beagle). She was likely  abruptly wakened from her sound sleep on the nearby sofa by the ruckus.

I noticed that she was walking funny. “What’s wrong with the dog?” i asked, thinking she might have salt in her paws or cut herself on something sharp outside. L’il Sis dropped the chair and rushed, full of concern, to her side to minister to her. Raising her front paw, L’il Sis announced, “For heaven’s sake! She has a felt pad stuck to her paw!”

Crazy D, not missing a beat, piped up, “I’m glad they didn’t go to waste!”

L’il Sis resolved to sneak into his room when he’s asleep and glue a felt pad to each of his fingers. See how HE likes it. Meanwhile, he is still our very own Easy Rider…and proud of it. Eat your heart out, Peter Fonda!

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