b Papa Dog's Blog: Here and Gone

Papa Dog's Blog

A Thing Wherein I Infrequently Write Some Stuff

Sunday, December 26, 2004

Here and Gone

Practical Grandparents’ Maxim: “Always be sitting.” We’ve taken full and shameless advantage of that one over the last few days, leaving Baby Dog with Gran for two matinées, drinks with friends, and miscellaneous meals and shopping outings. Second matinée was today, for that Lemon-Fresh Knickers thing, which was, oh, what’s the word, okay.

Before we went out for the movie, Mama Dog retreated to the garage suite to nurse the baby. I lay down next to them and tucked into the last chapters of my book. When she was done, Mama Dog got up to shower and left the baby next to me playing with her Whoozit. The random clacking and clinking was a pleasant background to the final pages of Cornell Woolrich’s remorseless tale of senseless death and even more senseless revenge. By the time I was done, I was drowsy, so I closed my eyes and let the rattling of the Whoozit lull me further into hebetude. I believe I may have slept for a few minutes.

I awoke, refreshed, to Baby’s coos. I rolled over and looked her in her inquiring little eyes. She favoured me with one of her 200,000 candlepower smiles, rolled a half-turn in my direction, and grabbed hold of my beard. I nibbled her fingers and tickled her feet, and Mama Dog came in to find us laughing at each other. We left her with a full tummy, a dry diaper, and a happy disposition and went off to see the silly movie with the Pirates. When we got out, it was raining. When we got home, Baby Dog was on her Gymini, playing with Gran who, as always, was sitting.


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