mother’s day

Yes, tomorrow is the day where children the world over manage a duty visit to their mothers, if nearby. If not, a duty phone call suffices. This seems an awfully minimal show of gratitude to somebody who, let’s face it, did the equivalent of passing a watermelon to give birth.

I am in the fortunate position of having not one, but two, mothers-in-law. SO’s mother, of course, did the watermelon-feat; but there is also his stepmother who, for all her faults, was the one who stayed up typing his school and uni assignments (this is in the antique days before home computers were common), looked after him when he was on the brink of death from pnuemonia, and taught him personal responsibility. Obviously, both of these women deserve visits on Mothers’ Day.

As a result, we will be having SO’s stepmum and dad over to breakfast tomorrow morning. We will then hightail it to the other side of the city (a good three-quarters of an hour’s drive) to see SO’s mum for lunch. It’s also our niece’s birthday celebration (she’ll be 2 shortly) so we will come bearing gifts.

And what of my mother? Unlike my father, she is still an active consideration. However, in her infinite wisdom, she has selflessly chosen to be absent tomorrow. Yes, she has gone to Sydney with friends for the weekend, to see a performance of the musical Billy Elliot, and thereby has earned a gold star on life’s chart of good deeds.

As a result, my brother and I are sharing custody of her two dogs. Marty is an old, grumpy daschund who is nearing the end of his life, while Chloe is six months old and is either running full tilt or sleeping. I was at Mum’s place tonight, and both dogs had had their dinner and were winding down for the day. Marty went into his basket and put his head down, closing his eyes.

At this point I should mention that Chloe really gives Mart a hard time. She bites his ears, neck, face, and on occasion, testicles. She’s drawn blood. Marty, however, is patience itself. When she’s pestering him, he just gives you this long-suffering look, and puts up with it. I’ve never seen him go for her in retaliation, ever.

Anyhow, so Marty was dozing off. Chloe put her two front paws in his basket. Next thing, I heard this very soft, very deep, ‘Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr’. Chloe took both paws out of his basket and went into hers instead.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Talk about funny. Marty never growls at anything, but obviously he’d decided enough was enough for one day, and he wasn’t prepared to put up with any more of Chloe’s crap. Good on him.

Anyhow Mum, if you’re reading this, the dogs are fine, and I hope you enjoy the show. Happy Mother’s Day.