Crazy D arrived home after 40 hours in transit from Manila and points west…even managing to stop at Ikea to purchase himself a new, possibly crappy bed but better than the non-existent bed he had after the bug infestation. He managed to put the bed together before crashing for a short nap before dinner. In true ‘welcome home’ fashion I had, as any mother would do, prepared a lovely roast chicken dinner with salad and fresh corn. There was even homemade blueberry pie should he so desire. (He didn’t need to know it was leftover from a dinner party I had earlier in the week.)
He barely stayed awake through dinner before retiring to his bed. I partially cleaned up and L’il Sis was getting ready to meet a friend for a walk with The Pig (her beagle). That meant that The Pig was alone on the main floor. That’s when L’il Sis heard a noise. Realizing that nobody was downstairs but her dog, she yelled and galloped down to see what was going on. With The Pig in residence, one always assumes nothing good is happening. One is rarely disappointed.
Sure enough, The Pig had hopped onto Crazy D’s chair at the table, her elbows were on the table (a crime of the first order) and she was chowing down on the butter that had been unintentionally left, begging to be eaten. Now we call her Miss Butterball. Her whiskers were greasy, her ears were greasy, her chin was greasy. L’il Sis grabbed what was left on the plate, scolded The Pig (hard to do when she looked so funny), and put the plate of ravaged butter next to the sink for garbage disposal when somebody had time to do it.
Gill’s comment about this latest Piggy indiscretion:”The Pig better not try sitting at MY place at the table when I come home. I’ll show her who’s boss. You people are way too lenient with her. You already make her chicken soup every day, she snacks with Grandma, and eats garbage willy-nilly. I draw a line at sitting at the table with her! Get your shit together…my arrival is imminent!” I wondered if I could find a ‘Miss Manners’ school for The Pig with a mere three days left before Gill’s holiday. Doubtful. Anything worth learning couldn’t be done in three short days.
Fast forward to the following morning. Crazy D was making himself breakfast. He looked only slightly more alert than the evening before. He was hunting for bread to make toast. L’il Sis saw him reach for the butter on the plate beside the sink. She went into panic mode. “Don’t eat that! The Pig got to it first.” She then began, “Funny story about last night…The Pig sat at your place and ate the butter…”
Crazy D dropped the butter. “Let me get this straight. You people left this out on the counter for me, the innocent victim in all this, the man who just survived bed bugs, a typhoon, a gastrointestinal outbreak in Manila, a rectal exam by a sketchy doc in a back alley hovel, and you’re now trying to finish me off me with poison dog-lip butter? Really? Would it have been that much trouble to throw it out last night?”
L’il Sis glared at him: “Well, I was rushing out to meet friends…”
“Harrumph..I don’t feel very loved right now.” Then he began to laugh. “This was the final indignity, the last assault on my weakened body. I’m going back to bed…or maybe Manila. It has already done its worst to me. I have a feeling you all are just getting started.”