This past weekend two of my favorite people came to stay with us. Seth & his wife Laura currently live in Indianapolis where they both work entirely too hard for a city nicknamed “Naptown.” I certainly know what I would do if I lived there.
Anyway, they both had some time off and graciously stayed two nights with us. The Wife™ and I spent the entire week leading up to this whispering things into Jonas’ floppy ears, but he wouldn’t listen. He would just cock his head and look at us as if to say, “look, human-thing, I have far more important things to do in my secret underground lair, so be gone now with your blabbering.” However, Jonas’ head almost ‘sploded when his bestest friend in the whole wide world came prancing through the door Friday night. Take that to your underground lair, pal.
Apollo is Seth and Laura’s dog, another rescued soul like Jonas, but one so delicate and diva-like it makes you wonder if she wasn’t born on a satin pillow with a mimosa in her hand paw. Part black lab, part Italian greyhound, Apollo (named after Seth’s favorite “Showtime at the Apollo”) is possibly the sweetest and most gentle dog on the planet. If it weren’t for the fact that she ignores the “urination outside” rule, I would have likely stolen her, put her in the closet and shoved Jonas into their car as they pulled out of the driveway on Sunday. Surely they wouldn’t have noticed the 30-pound loud-mouthed difference.
And while the weather was craptacular, necessitating that all 8 paws be dried on an average of every 5.6 seconds, Thing 1 and Thing 2 didn’t really seem to care. I’m embarrassed to admit that besides playing ten hours of board games, we pretty much just sat around and watched the dogs romp, wrestle and fight play. ‘Cuz thats just whut we does ‘round here in Kentucky.
They played, for hours on end, until Apollo would get grumpy and need to take one of those fictitiously-famous Naptown naps. Jonas spent their time apart woofing his head off until she was done. This is yet another instance in which dog-logic does not translate to people-logic. I’m 100% confident that if The Wife™ wanted to take a nap and I stood at the bedroom door screaming, “HEY! ARE YOU DONE WITH THE SLEEPING YET?!” that she would throw heavy objects at my head.
Sadly, Seth & Laura had to leave, and thusly so did Jonas’ only salvation from us human-things. In a last-ditch attempt to stop his best friend from, like, totally walking out that door and ripping his heart out or whatever, he grabbed her leash and sat down, saying, “Park it, sister. You’re going nowhere.” I imagine this in my own head as the canine equivalent of the lawn/radio scene in “Say Anything.” Just without the Peter Gabriel song. Or opposable thumbs.
Since Sunday afternoon, Jonas has moped around the house. No energy, no will to inflict terror or bone-crushing awesomeness onto inanimate objects. He sits and he stares. He checks the basement door to see if they’re still there, perhaps hiding and taking a reaaaaaaally long nap so that they can play for what he could only hope would be a week straight. His best friend is gone away, and he’s found that a part of him is now missing as a result.
Funny thing is, the same can happen to us human-things. I’m watching that door too, buddy.
