Tuesday, October 14, 2008

The Running Of The Spaniels

Friday night I heard a muffled crash. That usually means our puppy Lucy has been reaching up on the counter again. Sure enough. This time she'd managed to find a knife. Holding it in her mouth by the handle, blade facing out, she charged toward me.

"Get away!" I yelled, scrambling backwards.

She wagged her tail and feinted toward her left.

"Damn dog, leave me alone!" I grabbed a Milk-Bone and completed the delicate negotiation required to confiscate the knife.

So I was feeling none too kindly about the idea of pets when my mother showed up on Sunday morning.

"Help," I heard her call when she opened the door. "Help, someone."

"What's wrong?" I asked from the other room.

"Your dog won't let me in the house."

"Her training's paying off," I said.

"Very funny," she said as my oldest corralled the dog. "Keep it up and I won't let you have your magnets."

My mother just got back from Spain. She's taken to bringing home magnetic souvenirs for me. She brings home an identical set for R., who's been my best friend since 7th grade. At some point he became part of the family through that magical process mothers use to adopt their sons' friends.

"Ooh, magnets," I said. "I love you, mom. You're the best."

"Stop it," she said while I tried to hug her. "Let me show you what I have."

As she dug through her bag I saw a small tin.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Olive oil. I brought it for the Lovely Bride."

"Did you declare it?" I asked.

"Don't start with me," she said.

"No wonder Lucy reacted that way. She's a natural customs dog. Did you mule in any heroin?"

"Why are you so ridiculous?" she asked.

"Maybe you think it's ridiculous to protect your grandchildren from narcotics. I don't."

"I'm sorry," my mother said to the Lovely Bride, who shrugged in response.

I started singing. "God damn, god damn the pusher man."

"Your singing is worse than your attitude," said my mother.

"It's all genetic," I said.

"You're adopted," she reminded me.

"Did you smuggle me across the border too?" I asked.

"Can you smuggle him back?" asked the Lovely Bride.

10 comments:

Pinko Punko said...

You know I love Snag and Mom posts. Like a TV that should be on Nick at Nite.

Righteous Bubba said...

Snuggling across the border is one of life's great pleasures.

Jennifer said...

I'm guessing there are days when being smuggled back wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Mandos said...

I have fond memories of my week in Spain, a few years ago. Did you know, they have a giant department store chain called "The English Court"? Logo is "El Corte Inglés" in horrendous cursive green letters.

I have no idea why anyone thought the English Court had anything to do with a department store, but it is a pretty good department store that sells authentic Spanish saffron at a reasonable price...

Brando said...

Did you mule any heroin?

What a great line. I agree with Pinko, this should be a show. Everyone Hates Snag.

Kathleen said...

mmm Spanish Olive Oil

I once had spanish olives stuffed with anchovies. They were like salty pieces of Heaven.

Snag said...

Everyone hates Snag is already a reality show, playing nightly in my living room.

rotten mcdonald said...

I don't hate you Snag.

But then, I'm the Minister of Hemp.

rotten mcdonald said...

more Kathleen food comments.

rotten mcdonald said...

Snag, I believe you have a soul brother:

http://tbogg.firedoglake.com/2008/10/15/alternative-non-debate-live-blog-programming/#more-11578