Hello. It’s me.

Dad says, “I’m going to take a shower, you behave now, ok?”.

Yeah, right!

The rug pad has been bugging me for a long time. Hiding there, never willing to make a public appearance.

Minutes earlier, Dad caught me digging at the rug. He said “no”, in that half-hearted way that tells you that he’s more annoyed than issuing an iron-clad ultimatum.

So as the shower began to saturate Dad with cleansing albeit highly chlorinated well water, I began to cleanse the room of the nuisance hiding under the rug.

It’s amazing how fast the thing came apart. A tug here, a gnawing motion with my teeth there, and the thing essentially shredded itself. It’s not my fault – it’s poor American craftsmanship that should be blamed.

I guess I got greedy when I waltzed into the bathroom, tail wagging. Covered in soap, Dad says “you’re being such a good boy!” He’s praising me, friends. Praising me for my yet-to-be-seen deeds.

Then I rang the bell next to the front door. Dad opens the door to let me out. “Go potty” he says. Then he turns around, and looks in the living room.

It was at this point that Dad started saying words I only hear him say when his favorite sports team blows a lead late in the game.

He said “no” in such an affirmative manner that this time, I believed him.

Let’s just say I steered clear of Dad for awhile.