b Papa Dog's Blog: Will Signing, Take II

Papa Dog's Blog

A Thing Wherein I Infrequently Write Some Stuff

Friday, June 03, 2005

Will Signing, Take II

You may recall some time back I mentioned that we had a little party for our will signing. Well, one thing and another followed that and we had to change the wills. Nobody got disinherited or anything, it’s just that we revised certain things in our respective living trusts to make them more compatible with one another, and since the wills reference the trusts, they had to be reprinted, resigned, and rewitnessed. Will Signing Party II was tonight.

It looked for a while like we were going to have a bigger crowd this time around, but a lot of our invitees had other plans and then this morning M&F’s little boy got sick, so they had to cancel. That left just Les Dingeux and Friend Pablo, but we only needed three witnesses, so that was just fine.

The party was set to start at 8 and Les Dingeux, ever prompt, showed up on the dot. Baby Dog was still enjoying the run of the living room, and Les Dingeux joined me in watching her roll about and play with the stereo remote (batteries removed) and the roll of blue masking tape (which had been used that afternoon to jury-rig babyproofing on the stereo cabinet), while Mama Dog toiled over the hors d’oeuvre in the kitchen. This made for an unforeseen quandary. There were two options for changing the volume on the CD player, and it was difficult to judge which was the more inconvenient: getting the stereo remote away from the baby and putting the batteries back in, or peeling the masking tape off the cabinet to open the glass door. Further study is clearly required. I tried to get Baby Dog to show off her various new tricks and abilities, but it was a mixed bag. With a little urging, she obliged with a “duck” and a “burp,” but would not indulge me in demonstrating clapping or waving. I did accidentally get her to do her imitation of the dog barking, though.

As the clock ticked past 8, Mama Dog started to get anxious. She called Pablo’s cell but got no response. Without the third witness the will couldn’t be signed, and the ugly truth is, Pablo did forget the last event we Evited him to. With time getting on towards 8:30, we started to rack our brains for alternate signatories. J&R, who signed last time, were out of town. The Pirates were busy but couldn’t sign anyway on account of they’re named in both the trusts and the wills in the roster of potential guardians for Baby Dog. The Kitty didn’t answer, the Mircat was out of town. I thought of Broadway Joe the Realtor, but he didn’t answer either. Mama Dog was headed towards the extremity of bothering a neighbour when it occurred to me that we could prevail upon M&F – one of them could come over just long enough to sign. Mama Dog called, and M said he’d come. Relieved, Mama Dog took Baby Dog into her room for a bedtime draught of Mummy Moo, and the Dingeux and I settled around the kitchen table to lay into the pita and baba ganoush.

Seconds later, the bell rang and in walked Friend Pablo. “You’re here after all!” I exclaimed. “We thought you’d flaked!” Apparently this wasn’t the most welcoming greeting. I was surprised, is all. Turns out he wears earplugs when driving. He’d never heard the phone. I hurried to call M and tell him he could stay home with his sick son after all.

El Dingo knew Friend Pablo slightly from past poker games, but La Dinga had never met him. We gathered round the kitchen table and made party chat, Mama Dog joining us once Baby was down. It turns out – and who could know this? – that Friend Pablo is a brandy drinker. It happened that we had a dusty bottle of E&J in the basement, which I fetched for his delectation. Or at least his moderate enjoyment. I couldn’t seem to get him to finish the bottle for us.

We got the wills signed and witnessed and Les Dingeux, ever early departers, hit the road. Mama Dog and I sat up talking with Friend Pablo about life and love and roads not taken. Pablo expressed some regret about a particular missed path, and I tried somewhat ineptly to express my philosophy of no regrets, which I’ve written about previously in the faversham. Our points of view differed, but I think we understood one another.

Through all this, Doggy Dog grew increasingly anxious and whiny. Because I had to do a bunch of cleaning for the party right as soon as I got home for work, he hadn’t had his evening walk and he was feeling gypped. Pablo is not a dog person, so of course it was his lap that Doggy Dog sought out to plop his chin on and whine. I had to keep removing Doggy Dog to other environs, which only made him more anxious.

Finally, around ten, I decided I had to walk the dog and Pablo decided he had to go. Mama Dog suggested Pablo join me on the dog walk and, perhaps with the thought of clearing his head of the brandy, he agreed. We headed out, and as he went to stow his case in his truck, Pablo realised he’d left the keys in the ignition when he’d arrived. He was locked out of the car.

I was thinking “AAA,” but Pablo was thinking “B&E.” He went back in and got a coat hanger from Mama Dog. “You done this before?” I asked. “Oh yeah,” he said. “It’s easy after you do it a few times.” “A valuable skill to have,” I supposed. Pablo went on to tell me about a time when he’d come across a young couple struggling mightily to unlock their car with a coat hanger. Having practiced this skill he offered help, which they eagerly accepted. He took the coat hanger and popped the lock open faster than he ever had before. The couple thanked him profusely and drove off. As they left, it finally occurred to him to wonder whether or not it had been their car.

“You don’t have to wait around for me,” he said. “Oh, no!” I demurred, “I want to watch.” He unbent the hanger into one long strand with a hook at one end. He happened to know a loose spot with an easy opening, and inserted the wire there. “The only problem,” he said, “is there’s not much light.” “Good thing you have me with you,” I said, pulling my Maglite from my pocket and training it on the lock. “Essential equipment for a night time dog walk,” I told him. I started to add “You want to be able to see what you’re picking up,” but he apparently was not desirous of further detail.

This operation didn’t go as smoothly as the one in his anecdote. It lasted just long enough to be a set piece in a heist thriller. Maybe a dozen false tries and several rebendings of the wire, then – pop! – the lock came open. Pablo pulled open the door and Doggy Dog, who’d been waiting patiently the whole time under the mistaken impression that he was about to go for a ride in a truck, tried to hop in. Pablo and I shook hands and wished one another good night and off he went.

As I was taking Doggy Dog through his rounds, it occurred to me that the evening’s closing episode was a pretty good illustration of my regret-free philosophy. Pablo could be excused for harbouring some regret for having locked his keys in the car, but really why should he? He got the chance to tell a funny story to an appreciative audience and to show off his little-known skill; we both got the small adventure of breaking into a parked vehicle in the middle of the night; Doggy Dog got to think for a little while that he was going for a ride; and, most fortunate for me, I got another little batch of blog fodder. Many good things purchased cheaply by a small slip of the mind.


Blogger Twizzle said...

Excellent post, Papa Dog. Your regret-free worldview is admirable and is one that the rest of us bitter and anxious regretophiles should aspire to.

9:38 AM  
Blogger Judy said...

I need a Pablo around my house - we're forever leaving keys behind in vehicles and thinking of them *just* as the door snaps shut.

12:49 PM  
Anonymous El Dingo said...

Pablo wears earPHONES while driving. Not earplugs.

Stupid White Trash M.F.


5:31 AM  
Blogger Twizzle said...

I thought Pablo wore earMUFFS while driving. Silly me!

8:45 AM  
Anonymous Pablo said...

I have absolutely no regrets: That wasn't my truck!

10:34 PM  

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