In my parent's house there is a reclining chair with a nice view of the television. If one of us kids was sitting there and got up to get a drink (or oreos from the bag hidden from the other kids in a secret hiding spot) and returned to discover a conniving sibling had stolen said prime spot, battle ensued. "Up! You evil chair snatcher!" and a dogpile would break out. If, however, we returned to discover our family dog was contentedly resting there, his sweet head on the arm of the lazy-boy, we sat on the couch or the floor- anything to not disturb him.
The Dog Shelf began when Azar died in the winter. The idea was to scatter his ashes in the backyard when it thawed, but 20 years later he continues to reside on the shelf, well, most of him. There was that time The Parents were away and a few boys showed up to visit Jiff late at night. I came running from my room when she screamed - a very shocked boy was holding the tin containing Azar's ashes, which was open and Azar had exploded all over the room. In a moment of inspiration, we emptied the DustBuster and vacuumed him up and emptied him back into his tin decorated with red hearts. As the years passed, so did our childhood pets. We now have 3 dogs and a cat on the shelf and they, literally, look down on us and our lives - Frisky still waits for us to come home at night.
Home...
The family farm has been sold. The farm my father grew up on is no longer part of our family. This saddens me. "I'll always feel a connection to Monroe," my father said. "That's why I buried your mother there, surrounded by corn fields. Someday I'll be buried there, too, but not S. She doesn't want to buried there." This last was whispered into the phone. The Parents were out having an after work drink celebrating a business success. I heard S. in the background, laughing.
"Well, we always said, if you're lucky you'll get to join the dogs on the shelf. S. can put a bowtie on your urn and bring you to formal family events." Dad laughed and shared this with his wife and I heard her animatedly commenting before he erupted into laughter.
"What? What am I missing?"
"S. just said that if I'm cremated she'll take me someplace special and finally give me that "blow"job she's been promising me."
4 comments:
It's terribly funny to me that this entry has no comments.
I thought the same thing! Not even from The Family! Wonder what they're thinkin'...
I did ask The Parent's permission to post this, by the way. I was being nice.
I have asked, and now it is documented, that I upon passing wish to be simply wrapped in a loin cloth and laid in the woods. If somehow I do end up on that shelf, please make sure that my tin can be seen behind that of our pets.
Will a washcloth do if a loin cloth is unavailable?
Should you happen to end up on the shelf - I'll make sure that the grandkids take you to school for show & tell - you know, continue the tradition.
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