The other day I had a conversation with my college son on the phone and we were talking about all kinds of stuff. . . when I started talking about the dog.
Now I need to mention here that we have a 14 year old black lab/terrier mix and even though he is getting 'up there' in years (for a dog) he is doing quite well and may just end up outliving all of us.
So before I share this conversation I had with my son--I have to let you know that I was talking about THE DOG. What my son heard on the other end of the phone line was 'DAD'. . . so while he thought I was talking about HIS DAD---I was actually talking about THE DOG.
Here's how it went:
ME: Hey! Did you know we found a cyst on his neck the other day?
SON: REALLY?
ME: Yeah--it was kinda big and hard.
SON: No way! How's he doing?
ME: Well. . . things like this happen when they get older. You can't really see it--but you can feel it when you pet his neck.
SON: Oh my gosh! How does he feel?
ME: It doesn't really bother him at all. He runs around happy like there's nothing wrong. I wouldn't have even known about it if the neighborhood boy hadn't pointed it out to me.
SON: Well, are you taking him to the doctor.
ME: No. Dad says he doesn't need to go--that you get things like this when you get older--and we can just wait and watch for any changes since it doesn't seem to bother him.
SON: Well, do you think that's wise?
ME: I've left his care up to your father now--and he has always been pretty healthy and happy so I'm going to trust his judgment on this. . .
SON: Well, OK---but a cyst? Man, that doesn't sound good.
ME: No--and it feels kinda weird too. You can't really see it--there's so much hair on it. But he's really happy and otherwise healthy. He's running around right now!
SON: Mom, I can't understand why you are so calm about this. . .
ME: Because it's really not a big deal. . . it's just a normal thing that happens as they age.
SON: It doesn't SOUND RIGHT--I don't think it's normal.
ME: (Now I know that this son loves his dog--so I call his father to explain to him that it really IS OK)
THE DAD: Son, it is not a big deal at all--don't worry about it.
SON: (completely bewildered. . . makes some excuse to get off the phone)
The next day son calls back. . . (and remember my son still thinks I'm talking about his DAD--and I'm actually still talking about the DOG)
SON: Mom, I've been thinking about what you told me all night and I just wanna say. . .
ME: (Interrupting) Hey--we just found out that he's going deaf too. He doesn't hear the doorbell anymore--and if he doesn't actually SEE you, he won't come when you call him. But I'm told this also happens when they get older.
SON: (getting a bit huffy) Mom, I really think you need to take dad in to see the doctor. I really don't think it's just a little thing--and now if he's going deaf too--my gosh, WHY AREN'T YOU UPSET???
ME: Why do I need to take your dad to see the doctor?
SON: (Becoming even MORE agitated) BECAUSE OF THE CYST IN HIS NECK! And now you tell me he's going deaf?
ME: (completely flummoxed) You think I was talking about DAD?
SON: Yes--I've been up most of the night pretty worried. . .
ME: (Laughing hysterically and speaking incoherently) Just a minute. . .
ME: (Calling 'the dad' in question and putting my son on the speaker phone and explaining the conversation of the previous day about 'finding the cyst')
THE DAD & ME: (peels of uncontrollable laughter)
ME: Hon, it was THE DOG I was talking about, not your father. . . although he is also running around pretty happy and won't come when you call him either.
SON: (laughing too) You guys are SICK!
THE DAD & ME: Actually we're fine. . . (more laughter)
ME: (after regaining composure) Sorry you were worried that I was so cavalier about your father's condition--but really. . . he's OK and your dog is OK. . .and I gotta run, cuz neither one of them can hear that the doorbell is ringing. Perhaps I should start looking for cysts on your dad as well. . . can I call you back later? (Uncontrollable laughing again)
SON: (relief in his voice) Yeah. . . OK! I guess I should know better--I still say YOU GUYS ARE SICK! (hangs up)
Sooooo. . . After telling this story to a few select souls, it was suggested I put it on my blog---because after all. . . as one friend put it, 'That's good stuff right there!'
And you just can't make this kind of stuff up!
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6 comments:
Your son sounds like he's kind of dense. Was he accepted to this college on any kind of special program? All in all a good story.
I just wanted to point out that the fish in the picture of "the dad" are, dare I say, miniscule. That is a fairly wimpy fishing picutre to show off on a blog. Maybe he is a humble fisherman...?
To Travis:
I wouldn't say my son is dense, just comprehension challenged. . . He has always been 'special' and yes, I believe he was accepted to the college he is attending on a special program!
To Nic: I must say 'the dad' was totally taken aback at the offhand 'minuscule fish' comment. . . and as soon as he can figure out how to post a comment on here--he will definitely be coming on board to defend his honor. Something to do with 'survivor man' and eating the fish raw and being macho and manly and you have no idea what you are talking about!
First of all, the comment was not offhand at all. It was definetely "on-hand" and quite deliberate. And I think I do know what I am talking about -- those fish are about the size of his palm. That is small by anyone's definition. Where are the 15lb. trout? Or some impressive steelhead? What's the deal with the mini-fish?
To Nic:
Woo boy! When 'the dad' sees this latest comment. . . the fish are really going to hit the fan!
I'm sure he will have a perfectly excellent explanation for the 'size' of these beauts--as he was proud enough to have the photo taken in the first place.
OR he will have my head on a platter for posting it. (I am keeping my fingers crossed that the former is true as I meant no disrespect by the photo in question)
A word to the wise here--never tease a man about the size of his fish. . . (or point out the fact that they might be smaller than some) Unless of course, you like to live dangerously!
Wes, you CRACK ME UP!
And I couldn't agree more (about my son being an idiot)
But HEY! You've inspired me! I will not even think of putting the dog down for the time being.
I will do a post in honor of the dog (and you) I hope you will enjoy it and not report me to the Norwegian animal authorities. . .
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