Telling My Folks
Here is a story from 2018! We had finished most of the requirements for our I initial home study and needed personal letters of recommendation. The time had come to tell my folks.
Pre-pandemic, I saw my parents most weekdays on my way to and from work. Being the gracious people that they are, my parents took care of our dog, Chewie, while Marissa and I earned our paychecks. It was a real win-win-win situation. Marissa and I didn’t have to worry about the dog during the day, my parents got to ‘own’ a dog for 40 hours a week without the responsibility of actually owning one and Chewie was spoiled rotten. Chewie adores my parents and is always super excited to see them.
During one of the comings-and-goings, I invited my parents over for dinner on Saturday as a ‘thank you’ for helping with the dog. They agreed, none the wiser the true purpose of the invitation.
Saturday came and Marissa and I spent the day cleaning, cooking and preparing. Eventually, six o’clock rolls around, the door bell rings and I let my parents inside. Chewie, who was napping in the bedroom, hears my dad’s voice and comes sprinting down the hall. She makes a hard left turn in the family room, slides across the hardwood floor, regains her footing and greets my folks with enthusiasm.
I let Chewie outside before the excitement gets the better of her bladder as M and my parents exchange the usual pleasantries. ‘Thanks for inviting us.’ ‘How’s work? ’ ‘Where can I put this?’ Etc. While still in the thick of initial small talk, I notice a splotch on the floor.
My initial reaction is that somebody tracked in a flower pedal, no it’s more likely somebody stepped on a raspberry, but that didn’t make sense. Oh, that’s blood.
“Uh, is anybody bleeding?”
It is quickly determined it must be the dog. At this time, it’s necessary for you to know that Chewie has some health challenges. (Don’t worry, two years later she is doing well and as happy as ever.) As such, Marissa and I are prone to be overly cautious when it comes to Chewie.
Still in the backyard, Chewie immediately came when called, showing no signs of distress. Upon a quick examination, we discover she is bleeding from a small bump on her leg. It doesn’t look bad, per se, but again, with her medical history, M and I are concerned.
The decision is quickly made that we need to take Chewie to the vet. Marissa needs to stay behind to finish cooking dinner, so that leaves me. My dad offers to come but I decline.
To recap so far, my parents arrived ten minutes ago, Marissa and I are supposed to announce our plan to adopt during dinner and I am about to rush off to the emergency vet for an unknown amount of time.
As I collect my things, I mutter to Marissa, “so, should we..” and before I can finish asking, Marissa responds “yes.” So as I sit at the kitchen table, tying my shoes, I make our announcement. My parents are thrilled, but before they can ask any questions, I am out the door and in the car with the dog driving to the Vet, leaving Marissa to handle my parents and their questions by herself.
Chewie and I returned a few hours later just as my parents were getting ready to leave. The Vet determined the bump on Chewie’s leg was a wart that had burst when Chewie slid across the hardwood in her excitement to greet my parents. Nothing serious.
My parents give me big hugs, express their support and excitement and depart. While not at all what Marissa and I had planned, we both agree it was a memorable night.
