Ok first things first. I want to take a moment for my folks. Their dog died a few days ago. I am telling you so that I'm not the last to know.
Actually it wasn't that important that I knew. I never lived in the house with Romeo. Yeah, Romeo was his name-o. It was my understanding he was supposed to be called Tyrone, but that just isn't a poodle name now is it?
Romeo was a lover not a fighter. He was also a cool dog. I'm not a poodle fan. I'm kind of the midsiize to sedan sized dog guy. My dog's at least part German Shepherd, and sized appropriately. Anything smaller is really just a big rat pretending to be a dog. Romeo was all dog, he was only poodle on the outside. Inside he was all milk chocolate and peanuts. That made him Mom's baby.
I swear last time MyUnwife and I went out for a visit, Mom saved part of her Outback steak for Romeo. No, this wasn't special occasion steak, this was daily spoiling routine. Romeo ate from the table like the rest of the kids. I don't remember my parents ever bringing me steak back from a restaurant. What's more, I'm sure he ate at the adult table on Thanksgiving. I was relegated to the tiny card table in the other room.
Knock Knock!
"Who's there?"
"It's Rob."
"What do you want?"
"Might I trouble you for one dinner roll please?"
"Wait till the dog has his seconds and well see."
"Ok, I'll be out here picking the sunflower seeds from the bird feeder."
Yeah, he was quite the spoiled pup. I heard about his passing through my sister's MySpace page. She's got pictures of him plastering her blog like Jared Leto on a teen girls wall, you won't find pictures of either here. I don't have any. It's ok, he never took any of me either. Jared might have a few though, I don't know.
Like all thought motes that glint the light, Romeo returning to Juliette made me wonder. What about our pets? What happens with MyUnwife and I when our menagerie returns to dust?
I need to back up, back before their future death, and before our past marital death. I know I've shared this before, and for those of you who are more familiar with this than a Paris Hilton mug shot, skip ahead I'll tell you when you can peek.
Please press fast forward on your automated blog reader now.
Ok, here's the recap. MyUnwife and I had 3 pets. 1 dog, 2 cats. They were one of the first things we talked about splitting. She'd already gotten the eye of newt and nightshade powder. Those things were inherently her. Just like the lingering sweat stink in the garage and the puddle in front of the shower were already mine. The pets on the other hand were ours. Who gets custody of the kids? Who gets to play deadbeat pet parent?
MyUnwife was exceptionally amicable. She asked how I thought the kids should be handled. I know she had something in mind, but she wanted to hear where I fell first. I think a sharp corner would have been preferable.
The kids were the first thing I thought about when she mentioned the divorce. Ok, the second. The first was "If I try hard enough, will my glare burn holes in her forehead?" So secondly I made a decision on the pets. It took only a second. It was a simple, logical process. I'm good at those.
"You take Anakin and Bootsie [the cats] I'll keep Cosmo [the doggy prodigy]."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," I explained, "Bootsie is yours. You had him before the marriage. The cats are like brothers, they'll miss each other more than they'll miss either of us. Why split them? Cosmo, he needs a yard. You don't know where you're living yet, so he stays here." QED.
I think she was surprised. She had a look in her eye. I'm not sure if it was my clinical approach, or just the fact that I knew what was right. Either way, it surprised her. And that's how things broke down.
Ok, for those of you who stayed with me, thank you. Come by my Barnes and Noble tonight, between 7 and 8:30 and say the secret pass word, "Anakin." I'll buy you a coffee. If you want a cookie too, say "Bootsie." Don't say anything else, it'll be cool to watch my writers' group try to put the pieces together.
See, and now I'll put in a fluff paragraph so the people who skipped ahead won't suspect anything. It's sort of like burying something in the cat box. A trick MyUnwife's cats were never good at. The always left piles like flotsam and jetsam; mini treasures adrift atop a sea of litter. I like to think of my blog that way too sometimes.
Stop here and Peek.
So Romeo made me think. What happens when any of our kids pass? How do we handle that? How do we handle each other? Do we call each other? Is it an email nugget left for the spam filter to sluice, or do we wait until the next time we bump into each other?
"Hey here are some things I found in the garage. Oh, and Cosmo died last year."
What is divorce pet-deathequette? Cuz here's the thing, she may have the cat's but I still care. In the same way I'd expect her to tell me if she died, I'd expect her to tell me if the cats passed. I don't want to be the last to know that either.
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