Hal had a goody bag from his field trip that he was eager to show off when I arrived to pick him up from the preschool.
“Look, Mommy!” he cried, “We went to the place where you take dogs to get fixed!”
I raised my eyebrows at that. Interesting choice of focus, I thought. While spaying and neutering are important and certainly common at a veterinary clinic, it seemed a rather odd topic for a preschool field trip.
He stuck his right foot out in front of him, wiggled it, and then pointed to it. “Next time Rose hurts her foot, we need to take her there.”
The boys had a large stick in their room. In make-believe world, it was a bow, used for taking down evil orcs or some other manner of beasts. To the dog, it was just a stick, something to carry around.
And so it was that Rose found the stick and picked it up, walking out of the room. Hal was fascinated.
“Mommy! Did you know that Rose can carry a big stick?”
“But she can’t walk softly,” amended his Dad.
I love little moments like this when I feel like we are acting out a children’s movie. Enjoyable on the surface for the kids but a little extra reference that only the grown-ups understand.
*And, yes, I realize the quote is “speak softly” but that’s not what my husband said. It would have been accurate though. The dog doesn’t speak any more softly than she walks.
Addendum: I wrote this short bit a few days ago. It was trumped first by a tumbling bottle of soda and then by a boy who thought a potholder was a towel. Tonight the house seems especially quiet. Rose is spending the night at the vet’s office after slicing her foot pretty bad while chasing rabbits in the yard. It seems appropriate to share one of her tales in honor of the poor dog, who is certainly missing us as much as we are missing her.
The Real England is a concise, direct, and not-so-gentle window into the depths of the leftovers of the world’s once greatest empire. It is told from the perspective of one lone (or not so lone) long term visitor. It informs one of the dregs of the country and helps to explain quaint British oddities such as the crack addicted chav.