Friday, April 25, 2008
Yesterday, the Matron defied gravity. She hoisted the tiny acorns into her one and only push-up bra and tottered on high heels.
She felt fine!
Her hair looked good. Her purse and shoes worked well. All that teacher appreciation was just shooting through those veins! She loves her women students!
After teaching her day class, she shot home to grab the eighteen items she forgot to pack earlier: guitar for the guitar lesson; snacks; notes for teachers; overdue library books. Apples, string cheese, water. Her good mood allowed her to toss a new bag of Oreo into the mix.
As she was heading out the door to retrieve her children, Satan's Familiar implored. He wanted to ride along.
Now, Satan's Familiar is currently confined to the back porch, sort of the Matronly version of the kennel. He spends most of his time there with complete and total access to the dog door. In and out, he can go. Poop in the grass? Entirely within his reach.
But on Wednesday, SF was off the porch for just ten brief minutes. Not one to waste time, he deposited not one but three piles of poop in Scarlett's room.
That dog has talent.
But John is certain, certain, that Satan's Familiar will undergo miraculous Bowel Realignment if only he is allowed to ride in the car. To that end, SF has started traveling to post offices, grocery stores, banks and schools..
He hangs his ugly black head out the window, happy.
Because she was flying high--she felt fine, this hip middle-aged version of the put-together working mama balancing the world on her slim shoulders -- the Matron opened the door and let that damn dog out.
He immediately shot across the street and disappeared.
Satan's Familiar does not answer to any name. And, he is thoroughly afraid of the Matron, sensing her hatred and all that.
Ten minutes later, the Matron found SF eating squirrel food (bread) five houses down. He cowered against a tree until she grabbed him and, because she will support any Bowel Realignment Plan, put him in the van.
She picked up the children from school where Satan's Familiar spent some time deceiving the other families into thinking him an adorable, benign family pet. He played fetch! He licked small children. He allowed himself to be picked up and hugged by mobs of preschoolers.
"What a sweet dog!"
"He's so good with children!"
"Scruffy! What a perfect name!"
In the van, the children sensed her free spirit and implored: "Can we go to Bread and Chocolate, Mom! Please, please, please!"
They are very good at the unified front. So she relented.
The sun was shining. The day was fine and so was the Matron. She and her children enjoyed a lovely treat at Bread and Chocolate, a decadent little coffee shop on the trendy and busy Grand Avenue.
As they were leaving, the Matron sensed something. . . something unusual. The female intuition made her turn and yes! She met the eye and got a wide smile from a gorgeous mid-forties male who was sipping his espresso at a sidewalk table. She couldn't help it. She smiled back, this calm put-together well-dressed working mama who was not screaming at her children nor wearing sweat pants!
Then she opened the door to the van.
Satan's Familiar shot out.
Grand Avenue is a busy, busy, busy, street. Cars drive on it. Lots of them.
And the Matron tottered and ran and raced on those high heels, her acorn chest heaving as she screamed after that dog who gave one thorough romp up and down the block. The three children cried and screamed by her side as Satan's Familiar darted once out into the street!
He shot back! Passers by tried to grab him. Gorgeous lunged, too. The Matron yelled "Scruffy!" at the top of her lungs to no avail.
Finally, the dog decided to cower under the van, with cars whipping by at top speed, just inches from his head.
Did she mention that Scarlett is sobbing: "He's going to die! He's going to get hit by a car!"
So the Matron (who is furious) spends give a few minutes kneeling on the sidewalk -- all semblance of her formerly fine self abandoned -- screaming at Satan's Familiar to COME OUT RIGHT NOW (you goddamn dog) in front of the audience of coffee shop patrons (including Gorgeous) who were previously enjoying some peace and quiet with their latte.
As Satan's Familiar consistently creeps away from the Matron, she realizes that he senses her, ah, current state. He fears for his life. Rightly.
So Stryker calls his dog, quietly, gently: "Scruffy! Here you, boy!"
Scruffy goes right into his arms. The Matron hoists her acorn bra back into position, pulls up the hosiery and hauls herself into that van.
Only to discover that while they had been enjoyed cinnamon swirls and cocoa, Satan's Familiar had eaten all of the snacks the Matron had packed and forgotten in the car - including a brand new bag of Oreo cookies! Crackers, string cheese. Attentive to the food pyramid, he even gnawed on an apple.
The Matron understands this is part of his plan to produce four times his body weight in poop later this evening. She wonders how he will worm his way into the house so he can distribute the goods evenly.
At least, as she was pulling away from the curb, that that guy? He gave her one last smile.