When we arrive home each morning there is our usual debriefing with my wife, Pixie’s mom, that is, – how many ducks we saw, how many other dogs we met, etc., and of course, our encounter with Pete. But on this particular morning I had, of course, a different story to tell.
My wife was standing over the table on which she had placed a patchwork quilt she was working on, and she had between her teeth a safety pin. I told her about the crow, and how I suspected that Pixie thought it was the squirrel and what Pixie had said to me. Without batting an eye she asked me if I was beginning to hear voices. She, by the way, is carefully monitoring me for signs of dementia these days.
Then she said that she almost swallowed the safety pin she had between her teeth and that it would have been all my fault, if she had. You just can’t win, can you? Nor have we seen the squirrel since.
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