The Time My Dad Did Not Follow Directions and Immediately Regretted It
I went to college about an hour and a half away from where I grew up, so going home for the holidays was easy. Many of my college friends had to fly to get home, so I often volunteered to watch their dogs (provided the dog was amenable to a 1.5 hour car trip). My parents have always had dogs, so adding an extra one for a week or two was no big deal.
One Thanksgiving, my good friend had to fly home to Colorado, so she asked me if I’d watch her dog for her.
No problem.
So Pups and I packed up and drove home to my parents’ house for the week of Thanksgiving. She was a wonderful, well-behaved dog so the ride was easy. My parents took a shine to her immediately and our holiday was off to a pleasant start.
I need to pause here for a minute to provide some important context regarding my dad. Food is his love language. When I used to have friends over in high school, he’d always be sure to stock the fridge with their favorite sodas and he’d either make incredible meals or buy us whatever we wanted.
I remember once he was making breakfast for my friend Bobbye and me. He asked her how many eggs she wanted.
Bobbye, “How many can I have?”
Dad, “You can have as many as you want sweetheart!”
Bobbye, uncertain, “Could I have 12?”
Bobbye is that rare creature that is tall, almost unbelievably thin and an absolute bottomless pit when it comes to food. My dad was skeptical that she could eat 12 eggs, but he made them for her anyway and was absolutely delighted when she finished them all. (I also once watched her eat a dozen Taco Bell tacos.)
He takes a similar approach with pets. He has a soft heart and almost always shares what he’s eating when looking into pleading puppy dog eyes. As you can imagine, our family pets have never been called “thin” or even a “healthy weight.”
My dad, teaching my daughter to feed their already chubby boi chips
Knowing my dad the way I do, the first thing I said when I walked in the door was not “I missed you” or even “hello.”
It was, “Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES are you to feed this dog people food, OK?”
Dad reluctantly agrees and I make sure he lives up to his word.
The Friday after Thanksgiving I decided to go out with my friends who were also home for the holiday break. I knew my leaving involved some degree of risk, so I reiterated.
“While I am gone, Dad, promise me you will not feed this dog any leftovers.”
Dad, “I promise.”
You see where this is going, don’t you?
About three hours later, I get a phone call from home. This can’t be good.
Me, “Hello?”
Dad, “I’ve made a horrible mistake.”
Me, “You fed Pups people food, didn’t you.”
Dad, embarrassed, “Yes.”
Me, “And I’m guessing you found out the hard way why I told you not to do that?”
Dad, “Yes. The dog shit everywhere. There is dog diarrhea all over the carpet. In multiple rooms.”
The face that launched 1000 shits
Me, “This really seems like a YOU problem and not a ME problem at this point.”
Dad, “I know. I’m not asking you to come home and help me clean it up. You warned me. I didn’t listen. I was just calling to apologize.”
Me, “I don’t think it’s me you need to apologize to. I think you owe apologies to Mom for the carpet and Pups for the intestinal distress.”
Dad, “I just fed her baked turkey! I mean, how innocuous is baked turkey?”
Me, “Much less so than you thought, apparently.”
My daughter, having fully learned to model grandpa's behavior
