November 13 – “Canine condition”

Wait.  What?  I just looked at the Weather Bug icon on the computer.  That can’t be right.  Thirty-six degrees on balmy Galveston Island?  What is this world coming to?  Last time I remember it being that cold was way back when it snowed on Christmas Eve.  When was that, anyway?  Ten years ago?  Just about.  I had to look that one up.  It was in 2004.  First time in history that ever happened.  White Christmas.  Snowmen on the beach.  Crazy stuff.  But it’s not even Thanksgiving yet and we are in the thirties?  I should have known something strange was up when we had forty-six mile per hour wind gusts as the cold front blew through yesterday.  Oh, well.  I guess there is a silver lining or two here.  At least I don’t have to go to water therapy today.  The pool is indoors, but you do have to get back and forth to the car.  And this kind of weather should do wonders for kicking off the flounder run.  Now if I can just find some time to actually go fishing …

Cailyn was in rare form yesterday.  She morphed into a dog for some reason.  Do you know how difficult it is to get a four-year-old little girl stuffed into a dog’s body ready to go to school?  She barked rather than talked (unless she wanted to make sure we understood what the bark was supposed to be signifying).  She picked up her school clothes with her teeth.  She did get them on, though.  I had to remind her that even her dogs at home wear sweaters sometimes.  She did her best to get out of brushing her teeth.  She did her best to convince Nani that brushing teeth was just not something dogs do.  Wrong one to argue with, though.  Nani knows all, and she knew that dogs do indeed brush their teeth.  They just need a little help is all.  And that was my cue.  We traipsed over to the bathroom, where I toothpasted up her brush and handed it to her.  She did the brushing just fine.  She is actually better at it than most four-year-olds I know.  Certainly better than I ever was at four.  Or five.  Or … well, let’s leave that one alone.  Her problem was when it came time to rinse her mouth out.  We were out of the little Dixie cups, but she didn’t want that.  After some tense moments of doggie pantomime I finally figured out what she wanted.  I cupped my hand and filled it with water, and she lapped it up.  Just gotta think like a dog to communicate with one.  Or like a four-year-old pretending to be a dog.  I thought the charade would end when it actually came time to leave the house for school.  What do I know.  She growled playfully, yipped a bit, and walked out to the car … on her hands and knees.  We finally got her buckled into her carseat and headed for school.  I have to admit, I wondered the whole way if she would morph back into Cailyn or if I would be escorting a cute little mongrel puppy to the door.  If that was the case, I wasn’t sure about the campus leash laws, and she wasn’t wearing a collar.  I knew she had had her shots, though, so we were OK there.  As it turned out, with some fast talking and some creative distraction maneuvers, I managed to turn her attention away from the canine world.  But who knows when that strange malady might strike again?  Best be prepared.  Off to WalMart for some doggie treats …

Psalms 119:12 says, “Praise be to you, O Lord; teach me your decrees.”

Father, thank you for the cold weather.  Kind of hard to say that when I really prefer warmth, but you are in control.  Especially of those flounders.  Amen.