A week ago in a fumbling fugue I left Cutter’s home arrest collar on when we went walking and he passed right through the electric fence we’ve installed to keep the boys safe from outside insidiousness.
I was like, WTF?
So I went to the Pet Stop woman and explained what had happened and she did an electronic thing to check the collar and told me that maybe I needed to snug up their collars so the prong things made better contact.
And that’s what I did.
Oh my god the drama. Cutter immediately staggered into the living room and collapsed pawing feebly at the collar.
I……can’t……….breathe, he wheezed.
Tug slumped and rolled over on his back.
Me neither, he said, I can’t breathe too.
I looked at the two of them and I was like, dudes you so suck.
So I made a cocktail and started reading the newspaper. I don’t know why we still get a paper. Maybe I like reading about what happened yesterday. Whatever it is I do it.
And Cutter and Tug jumped up on the couch watching and waiting expectantly for Miss Carol.
When she walked in they started up again.
Ack. and Ack. Cutter wheezed, limply pawing at his collar.
Me neither, Tug said, I can’t breathe too.
What’s up with them? Miss Carol asked, kissing me.
I told her they were just being fags and told her the whole story about the collars and the Pet Stop woman and Miss Carol leaned down and felt the snugness of Cutter’s collar.
Honey, she said, they are little too tight.
Cutter lit up. I tole him that, he said, looking at Miss Carol imploringly with glistening puppy dog eyes. See what happens when you’re not around?
Carol, I said, please don’t buy into this and make it worse.
Can I get a lawyer? I need a lawyer, Cutter said. The mental anguish ALONE is huge, he said. I might be DYING he said.
Me neither. I can’t breathe too, Tug said.
They are a little too tight, Miss Carol said.
Carol, I said.
Cutter flopped to his side and stared off into a distant dark corner of the kitchen and said, I’m coming home mommy.
Oh stop, I said.
Tug said, Me neither. I can’t breathe too.