Dinner Date with a Dog Nerd
Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2012 8:49 pm
A couple of weeks ago, my husband told me he'd like to take me out to dinner on Valentine's Day, and wanted to take me to my favorite restaurant. No argument from me 
.
However, with Geyser's Chinese herbs for her lung condition costing $56 every three weeks, and her very expensive spaying procedure on the horizon, and just having spent a bunch on her and the cats' monthly supplements, I decided I didn't like the idea of him spending a lot on dinner for me. So, I suggested we just use the $50 Outback Steakhouse gift card we'd received at Christmas, given all these other expenses. He reluctantly agreed.
Then, yesterday turned out to be one of those days when the prospect of preparing dinner and doing the clean-up afterwards was just not something I felt like doing
. So, I asked him how he'd feel about going out to dinner last nite, and considering it our Valentine's dinner date. He agreed.
Now, I can clean up as well as the next person, but given the energy level I had at the end of the day, I just didn't feel like getting all gussied up, and besides, we were going to the Outback. So, I just wore the same clothes I wear every day, which I'd classify as dog friendly. You know, the ones that it doesn't matter if they get hair all over them, or muddy dog prints, or even the occasional tears. I wear shorts year around, except I wear tights with them in the colder months, and they have to have lots of pockets, to accommodate the poop baggies I always carry, not to mention the treats, etc. This time of year, I wear sweatshirts. For our dinner date, I dressed up by exchanging a nice black sweater for the sweatshirt, put on a little face paint, and done!
We'll fast-forward past the long wait (in spite of having called ahead and supposedly registering to get in line by phone), the waitress bringing me the wrong bottle of beer (“Oh...well, I guess we're out of that one!” “Well, why didn't you say so when I ordered it?”), and the lukewarm ribs (for me) and prime rib (for my husband). I was happy; I didn't have to cook dinner or clean-up afterwards
.
What a well-trained husband I have. As we finished our meals, he still had a nice chunk of prime rib on his plate. He looked at me and asked, “Do you have any baggies on you?” What a question! Of course I did. So, as he started cutting up his meat to put in the baggie for Geyser, I reached into my poop bag pocket and pulled out...a poop bag that had dog poop in it
. I started laughing and he asked me what was so funny. I explained as I showed him, and he just smiled. (When we're out walking and I pick up after her, I usually just put the used bag in the pocket to dispose of when we get back home. It was a very small amount (love raw fed dogs!), and so it didn't create a bulge in the pocket...I just forgot all about it... 
)
So, I picked the rest of the rib meat off the ribs I hadn't finished, put it in the baggie with his prime rib, and I was happy to have such wonderful training treats to take home to my dog (who actually was waiting for us in the truck). How could I not be happy, with a non-dog person Valentine who didn't even bat an eye at my dinner table gaffe?
Suggested discussion questions:
-Who is the Normal Person in this story, and who is the Dog Nerd? How can you tell?
-Which character do you identify with, and why?
-Which character would your spouse identify with?
-Compare and contrast your own dining experiences with those of the story's Dog Nerd.
Optional Titles:
You May Be A Dog Nerd If...
Can You Top This?
All Dressed Up...
.However, with Geyser's Chinese herbs for her lung condition costing $56 every three weeks, and her very expensive spaying procedure on the horizon, and just having spent a bunch on her and the cats' monthly supplements, I decided I didn't like the idea of him spending a lot on dinner for me. So, I suggested we just use the $50 Outback Steakhouse gift card we'd received at Christmas, given all these other expenses. He reluctantly agreed.
Then, yesterday turned out to be one of those days when the prospect of preparing dinner and doing the clean-up afterwards was just not something I felt like doing
. So, I asked him how he'd feel about going out to dinner last nite, and considering it our Valentine's dinner date. He agreed.Now, I can clean up as well as the next person, but given the energy level I had at the end of the day, I just didn't feel like getting all gussied up, and besides, we were going to the Outback. So, I just wore the same clothes I wear every day, which I'd classify as dog friendly. You know, the ones that it doesn't matter if they get hair all over them, or muddy dog prints, or even the occasional tears. I wear shorts year around, except I wear tights with them in the colder months, and they have to have lots of pockets, to accommodate the poop baggies I always carry, not to mention the treats, etc. This time of year, I wear sweatshirts. For our dinner date, I dressed up by exchanging a nice black sweater for the sweatshirt, put on a little face paint, and done!
We'll fast-forward past the long wait (in spite of having called ahead and supposedly registering to get in line by phone), the waitress bringing me the wrong bottle of beer (“Oh...well, I guess we're out of that one!” “Well, why didn't you say so when I ordered it?”), and the lukewarm ribs (for me) and prime rib (for my husband). I was happy; I didn't have to cook dinner or clean-up afterwards
. What a well-trained husband I have. As we finished our meals, he still had a nice chunk of prime rib on his plate. He looked at me and asked, “Do you have any baggies on you?” What a question! Of course I did. So, as he started cutting up his meat to put in the baggie for Geyser, I reached into my poop bag pocket and pulled out...a poop bag that had dog poop in it
. I started laughing and he asked me what was so funny. I explained as I showed him, and he just smiled. (When we're out walking and I pick up after her, I usually just put the used bag in the pocket to dispose of when we get back home. It was a very small amount (love raw fed dogs!), and so it didn't create a bulge in the pocket...I just forgot all about it... )So, I picked the rest of the rib meat off the ribs I hadn't finished, put it in the baggie with his prime rib, and I was happy to have such wonderful training treats to take home to my dog (who actually was waiting for us in the truck). How could I not be happy, with a non-dog person Valentine who didn't even bat an eye at my dinner table gaffe?
Suggested discussion questions:
-Who is the Normal Person in this story, and who is the Dog Nerd? How can you tell?
-Which character do you identify with, and why?
-Which character would your spouse identify with?
-Compare and contrast your own dining experiences with those of the story's Dog Nerd.
Optional Titles:
You May Be A Dog Nerd If...
Can You Top This?
All Dressed Up...
, since I am forever picking it up.
Not so crazy about the liver treats. 
