My maternal grandfather was, I’m told, quite dashing in his youth. Tall, blond, with smokey gray eyes. It was said he dressed well, too.
I was scanning old photos and came across two from my grandparents’ 66th wedding anniversary party in 1982.
For the event, which my mother hosted, I flew down from Boston and sculpted chopped liver into the number “66.” At the time, I thought it was hideous and somewhat obscene. After seeing the photo, I haven’t changed my opinion. (Click the images for full servings.)
The other photo from that day is of my grandparents. My grandfather died just after their next anniversary, at the age of 93 (more or less). And my grandmother followed exactly a year later.
I have no idea who did my grandfather’s shopping, but his anniversary outfit looks like something out of … well, out of the pages of this blog.
He did, however, make the peak lapel look so swell…
So, I was sitting on the toilet Friday morning. Yes, that really is how this story begins.
So, I was sitting on the toilet and Dudo decided, as always, it was a perfect opportunity for us to spend some time together. First, he forcefully pushed the door open with his front paws. He checked to make sure I wasn’t getting into the shower and then ran for a toy. (The usual routine.)
I threw the toy. He fetched it. I threw it again. He fetched it again. The third time, he returned with a long knotted-up string. We had a tug-of-war. I threw it. He fetched it. He tired of that and then raised up on his hind legs to head-butt my thigh. I took the hint and stroked and petted him. He clearly wanted to hop up on my lap. That was not about to happen.
I stopped responding to his head butts, assuming he’d leave me in peace.
Then I yelped.
DUDO, OUR LITTLE ANGEL. (CLICK FOR THE BIGGER PICTURE.)
Annoyed by my lack of attention, Dudo bit me on the ass! Well, more precisely, he gave me a love bite (with his sharp little teeth) on the upper thigh.
The message: “Don’t ignore me, goddammit!”
I of course gave him a stern lecture. He apologised.