DON

Do you see that old man right beside the dog in the list of followers of this blog?

That's Don, my dear, sweet husband, whom I happen to know never reads this blog but puts himself there as a show of support.

My floor covering replacement in the dining room somehow brought out the aroma that is now permanently embedded in the carpet.

Lat night Don asked, 'Do you think the smell of urine will ever go away?' He said this very politely. He could have been asking, 'Do you think the Blue Jays have a chance this year?'

This would have been a good time to explain properly about the T.A.R.P. but it was too soon after the discovery, and I hadn't had time to think about my answer. So I treated it as a rhetorical question.

I think my best option at this point is to call up that show that rebuilds people's houses. I can see it now, the puppies and I all weeping with joy in the culdesac, while what's-his-name goes on and on about how he saved my marriage.

In this fantasy, interestingly enough, Don isn't home. He is out golfing as in real life. And maybe that's the secret. 'What do you expect? The house is full of dogs. The carpet is ruined. That show doesn't come even come up to Canada for Pete's sake. Of course I golf all the time!'