Let me just preface. Let me just preclude. Let me just head shit off at the pass-
EVERY SINGLE DAY SPENT IN THE LOVING ARMS OF OUR LOVING FAMILIES IS AND WAS THE BEST WE’VE EVER SPENT.
That said, day three of our Christmas journey was a weirdly nostalgic trip down a wonderful sparkly lit highway my brother and me hadn’t traveled in a long, long time.
It started with us walking Cutter and Tug in the early morning drinking a beer and talking about the future and then driving over our sister’s lawn ’cause it’s fun to piss her husband off and then drinking more beer and watching football. We hadn’t spent an afternoon doing that since before Miss Carol and me moved to the beach decades and centuries ago.
It was good. I mean, really, good.
BUT THAT’S NOT TO SAY THAT EVERY OTHER DAY WASN’T GOOD. AND FUN.
On the downside, Cutter and Tug ramped up their hunger strike. They do this any time a trip plows past their comfort zone. Anything beyond a half hour or so and Cutter’s like, I’m not eating ’till you take me home. And Tug’s like, me neither motherfucker.
I’m like knocking my head against the wall.
At five the next morning after all the fun and beer and the dogs not eating I go out and load up MR.GREENE. for the ride home and start him up and while he’s idling my brother and me spend a little more time together walking the dogs. It’s nice.
BUT NOT NICER THAN ANY OTHER DAY. OK?
And then I pull MR.GREENE. around and Miss Carol comes out with her blankie and settles down for the long nap home and I open the back door for the dogs.
Both dogs look at me and then look at the open door and the backseat and then they look at me again and then Cutter starts to twitch and Tug begins wailing, NOOOOOOooooooooooo.
C’mon guys, I say through gritted teeth, Cutter backing and pulling and Tug yelping.
We’re going home!, I say brightly, tossing Cutter into the truck and grabbing Tug, trying to push him into the open door, his four legs spread against the opening, Cutter barking now and Miss Carol yelling at all of us to shut the fuck up ’cause she’s desperately clinging to wanting to sleep.
Christmas is fun, right?
We finally get rolling through the pre-dawn darkness and on into the sunlight but about halfway home Tug freaked. He does this when he’s really fed up. Miss Carol had to climb into the back and calm him down and Cutter whispered sweeeet and clambered into the passenger seat.
And we drove down into yet another Christmas dream.