[Critique Group 1] FW: April Submission for Critique

[DQ Noriega]

Hi Leonard, here it is again!

 

 

From: Group1 [mailto:group1-bounces at bluegrasspals.com] On Behalf Of DQ
Noriega
Sent: Wednesday, April 11, 2018 8:45 PM
To: DeAnna (Quietwater) Noriega
Cc: Critique Group 1
Subject: [Critique Group 1] April Submission for Critique

 

Chapter 12.

Three's A Crowd

 

Three months before the wedding, Curt's parents helped him finance a ten by
fifty-five foot trailer for our first home together.  He moved in and as
wedding gifts arrived, they went into daily use.  Each Saturday, I went over
to clean and straighten up my new home to be.  Curt hated to do dishes
because one of his college jobs was as a busboy and dishwasher in a
restaurant.  Our eight place settings of dishes were piled in the sink,
waiting for my Saturday visit!

 

When we returned home from our wedding, Tammy and I moved into the trailer.
On the first evening, I was putting things away when I started to feel
decidedly unwell.  As I finished tossing my cookies with Tammy anxiously
watching from the bathroom doorway, the phone rang.  Curt had just finished
a dash to the lavatory at school.  He had picked up the syllabus for his
chemistry class and was headed home.  We couldn't figure-out  whether it was
flu or food poisoning, but we spent the second night as a married couple
taking turns being sick.  We decided that surviving our wedding and
beginning our married life with a mutual bug meant that it presaged a happy
marriage.  No matter what the future held, it had to go smoother than the
beginning.   

 

After three years as a team, a very strong bond united Tammy and me.  She
had always liked Curt and began wagging and pulling me toward him whenever
we met on campus.  However, she made it quite clear that she thought he
should go home after dinner.  She lay on her rug in the corner of the
kitchen and gave mournful sigh,s looking toward her food dish.  As long as
Curt remained in the house, she refused to eat.  He had to go for an evening
stroll in order for her to touch her dinner.  

 

One day when I took her out to relieve her, Tammy began digging a hole.  She
had never shown an interest in digging before.  I checked to see what she
was up too.  She had carried Curt's tennis shoes outside with her and was
burying them.

 

She continued to greet Curt effusively when we crossed paths at school, but
she turned her face to the corner and ignored him at home.  I wondered if
all those psychology classes she had seemed to sleep through hadn't taught
her a thing or two about behavior modification.  Was my girl trying to use
operant conditioning to train Curt to stay at school and leave us to enjoy
our home without a third party?

 

Poor Curt had run the gauntlet of my friends, who wondered how I could be
interested in such a quiet person.  My artistic uncle felt he was too dull
for me because he was a science major.  My music professor objected that I
was too young to think of marriage.  When I asked how old he thought I was
he guessed seventeen.  I pointed out that I had taken that first freshman
music appreciation class two years earlier.  Although reasonably bright, I
wasn't a child genius so must be older than he thought.  Now, Curt had to
convince a hardheaded Labrador that he wanted to take care of us both.  He
hoped to make her life and job a little easier. 

I don't think she thought she needed any help taking care of me. 

 

Tammy always waited patiently for me to wake each morning to take her out to
relieve her.  She soon discovered that Curt couldn't easily ignore her
desire to go out if she stood on his side of the bed and stared at him at
close range.  She was too polite to make a sound or put her paws or head on
the bed.  Her anxious breathing and intent stare inches from his sleeping
face never failed to wake him.  Making this discovery mollified her a bit
about sharing our home with a third person. She also liked strolling over to
the trailer park office with Curt to get the mail.  Since she didn't have to
guide on these trips, she accompanied Curt carrying her leash in her mouth
to comply with the dog on leash rule.  Being the well-behaved lady she was,
she kept the correct at heel position on these walks. 

 

The people in the trailer park gave a potluck supper for us and decorated a
money tree to celebrate our marriage.  Our neighbors were very nice and I
started to do some babysitting for some of them.  Tammy enjoyed small
children, but babies made her nervous.  She stationed herself near the baby
and if it began to fuss, she raced to find me.  She grabbed my hand in her
mouth and pulled me toward the baby.  She seemed to be saying, "Quick, it's
making noises, fix it!"  One four year old got so rowdy, that I was amused
to hear Curt order, "Jeannie, sit! Rest!"  I told him that only worked with
dog guides.  Although Tammy finally accepted that others would be part of
our home, becoming tolerant toward them, She still felt that I was her
special responsibility. The operative word here was "hers!" 

Even out of harness, she felt she was on duty. If she thought I was about to
trip over a lawn sprinkler in the yard or bump my shins against a coffee
table indoors, she rushed to take my hand in her mouth to gently guide me
around the danger. If she had been able to talk and was asked what her job
was, I think she would hagve said that she was my keeper!  

 

 

 

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