Tonight a sound emerged from my husband that I’ve never heard before. Get your mind out of the gutter and I’ll elaborate…
My husband is 6’5 and generally manages to intimidate most people simply by virtue of the serious look that seems to be his default setting, especially at Renaissance Festival. The man has dealt with all manner of violent people, ishiness, and tense situations.
Tonight he was momentarily brought low by the one of the most natural reactions a dog can have to people eating: drool. We have a German Shepherd…long ropy drool remiscent of Turner and Hooch isn’t his norm. In fact, other than the explosion of shedding we deal with twice a year, Thor is quite tidy. Unless you have something on your plate that smells particularly intoxicating…tonight it was lemon chicken and couscous.
Not only one, but TWO long ropes of clear, sticky slobber slowly stretched from the corners of Thor’s mouth, as he very politely tried to sit still and hope against hope that SOMEONE will drop something in the vicinity of his mouth. Of course, early on we taught him “wipe your mouth” in defense of wild dribbling following a trip to the water bowl, but the boy was just so enamored with our chicken dinners that his wiping was cursory at best.
So he reached out toward the hubby’s bare leg, undoubtedly to indicate he’s DONE the mouth wiping, thank you, and where’s the reward?
My husband said, and I quote “EWWW!” in a VERY 13-year-old-girl tone, and jerked his leg out of the way. This is the same man who will not notice he’s bleeding all over the place until he gets it on something or I holler at him.
And luckily my dog is too dingy to realize a fundamental truth in our household: Drool is power.