Yesterday my father called to ask me why I hadn’t told him that my sister got a dog.
Oops. SOMEONE’S BEEN READING MY WEBSITE.
Turns out my step-mother pulled up my website a couple days ago and read that my sister had purchased a dog, after which she immediately called my father to give him the bad news. My father is not a dog person, or a cat or bird or fish or anything that requires you to witness its excretory activities person. He changed our diapers while wearing a hazmat suit.
My sister was going to get around to telling him about Bo, really she was, probably right about the time he showed up for a visit and then, guess what, Dad? We got a dog and he’ll be sleeping with you tonight!
I feel terrible about blowing my sister’s cover, and I asked my Dad, “I know you never thought you’d raise a Democrat, but is it worse knowing that you raised two dog-owners?”
He let out an exasperated laugh and lamented, “Not only did I raise a Democrat and two dog-owners, but my son, HE PLAYS GOLF. GOLF! Where did I go wrong?”