Rip: (Wag, wag, bounce, bounce.) Wooof! (Jumps squarely into my lap.)
Me: (Cooing gently.) Oh! My! You are sweet boy.
Rip: (Licks, kisses and nuzzles.) Ahhhh-woof!Me: (Rubs his belly.) Does my baby like to have his belly-welly rubbie-dubbied?
Rip: (Rolls onto his back in lap and presents his stomach for easier access.) Woof, ahhh-wooof!
Me: (Scratches his tummy.) I love you, Rippy-dog.
Rip: (Licks and kisses my face for what seems like an eternity.)
Suddenly Ripken freezes mid-lick and his ears perk up. My underdeveloped human ears don't pick up on any sounds, but Ripken is motionless and at alert. He. HEARS. SOMETHING.
Me: Ippy Dippy Dog, give Mama more kissies.
Rip: (Remains frozen in place, save his right ear which rotating above his head like a NORAD satalite.)
Me: What is it Rippers? (I pause to listen, but again hear nothing.)
Rip: Sniff. Snort. (Begins to wag his tail gently.)
Me: Oh, you DO love your Mama!
The front door swings open and the hubs steps through. Ripken – all 75 pounds of him – swivels in my lap to face his Daddy then pushes against me as hard as he can to get enough traction to propel himself toward the hubs. Ripken flies through the living room dropping at his Daddy's feet in a fuzzy ball of excitement, love and devotion. Meanwhile, I have been knocked to the floor and trampled by the Silky and the Pug.
The three dogs encircle the Aggie, each offering their eternal affection. And just ask I'm about to pull myself up from my positions of having just been stampeded across, the freaking cat comes running toward the three-ring circus at the door. On her pilgrimage to greet the hubs, she literally walks over me like I am a piece of carpet.
Me: Not you too!
Gert stops, turns to face me then looks at me as if she's really truly seen me for the first time. A smile crosses my lips and I offer a tender rub across her face. She, in turn, reaches out, takes my hand in her mouth and bites the shit out of me.
Me: Traitor.
Gert: Suck it, fucker.
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