The Lighter Side


Blimey!! | Stress Diet | Love, Lust, or Marriage? | Life Gets Tedious, Don't it? | The Class Reunion | Slogans for Women | Senior Lament | Waxing Poetic on Ageing | Abbot and Costello Now | The Stance | Texas Vocabulary | Will Rogers On Growing Older | Favorite Things | Viagraisms | The Unwritten MAN CODE | Men You Would Meet In A Man's Restroom | Andy Rooney on.......................... | If Men Had A Vagina............... | Why Women Are In A Public Restroom............. | My Pills | Carlin Speaks.............. | Creative Writing Class | Marriage From HIS Side Of The Bed | Grandpa Knows Best | Man O Man | Stan Says.............. | Senior World | Are You Lonesome Tonight? | Go, MOM! | Mom's Special Dictionary | A Bad Day??? | Computerized Dr. Seuss | Rover's Diary | What Would You Do If you Had A Penis? | Thoughts On Ageing | Buttons Worn on the Blouse of a Savvy Woman | What's a BITCH? | My Men | Andy Rooney on Women Over 40 | A True Friend | Men | Growing Older | WHAT Kind of Sex? | T-Shirts for Fab Fifties | I've learned........................ | The First Mammogram | I'm MATURE! | Orgasms | Success | My Mother's Penis | Male or Female? | The Stranger In My House | Signs That You Are Growing Old | Ruminations | Mom and Dad | If Men Ruled The World | Bumper Stickers JUST For Women | A Woman's Life | Modern Proverbs | The Secret Of A Happy Marriage | The OTHER Differences Between Men and Women | Love Poems | You Know It's A Bad Day When...................... | When I'm An Old Lady | Thirty Years | 20 Things That You Would LOVE To Say At Work | The ABCs of Aging | Sexualisms | Southern Etiquette | How To Tell | A LOVE Poem | The Bare Necessities | Some Little Rules For Living | In 50 Years of Living | Aging | I'm FINE! | Remember? | A Little Advice | A Prayer For Those Getting Older | Female Progression
Rover's Diary

Feb 21:
The truck is gone and most of the items from the old cave have been moved to the new one. Bill keeps fussing over me. He seems to think I will have trouble adapting to a cave with a yard, trees, grass and our very own squirrels. AS IF.
This morning, on the deck, he kept saying, over and over again: "We live HERE, now. Do you understand? We used to live THERE. But now we live HERE. This is our HOME, now. HERE." Yeah, yeah. HERE. I get it, already.

Feb 22:
After opening another can of goo for me, Bill made himself a thick, juicy rib steak. We've been together since October, and he's still treating me like a dog. He did, however, offer the bone to me when he was finished. I chewed it for a while and then buried it in the dirt by the shed. Bill stood up, with this rather incredulous look on his face, and it suddenly
occurred to me that he'd never seen me bury anything before. He asked if I learned how to do this from watching cartoons.
I think he was serious.

Feb 23:
I have to say that I really LOVE this yard.
The only drawback is that there are fences on all four sides. But, as that cute Chihuahua in East Rutherford used to say, "No problema." I've begun preliminary excavation work at four
different locations. Bill has noticed three of them, but the fourth one is hidden behind a poster of Rita Hayworth. I may not have learned much from watching cartoons, but "The Shawshank Redemption" was a revelation.

Feb 24:
Every time I bark in the yard, Bill has a fit, and makes me come back into the cave. What is his problem? Today he actually said, "If you want to bark all day, get a job, and buy your OWN house." Well, excuuuse me. I guess no one's told him that barking IS my job. God knows I never hear HIM bark. People walk by all day and night and he never makes a sound. He just paints, empties boxes, and rearranges rugs, knickknacks, and furniture I've never seen before. Sometimes I don't know what to pee on first. As for the barking, maybe I'll just stop
altogether. In fact, if someone breaks in, maybe I'll jump on his lap, lick his face, and help him dismantle the stereo.

Feb 25:
After napping on the couch for three hours, Bill got up at 1:a.m. and started painting the hallway. I HATE that smell. As soon as I saw him spreading newspapers on the floor, I went
up to bed. I came back downstairs to check things out an hour or so later, and he was still painting away like a lunatic. When he saw me, he said, "Hi, Jasp," like it was the middle of the afternoon. I walked across the ewspaper, into the living room, and onto the couch. Then I heard this blood-curdling scream. Apparently, I tracked paint all over his stupid Pakistani rug. "Do you know how much I paid for this rug?" he screamed, spritzing club soda all over the place. Well, at least I got him to bark. Incidentally, if you've never had club soda on your paws, it's the wildest sensation. I
can't wait until he paints the porch.

Feb 26:
We were out on the deck again, and this big fat bug waddled by, so I ate it. Bill ran over and pried my mouth open. Too late! But he was really freaking out. He even ran inside and
called the vet. (Ha! He should only KNOW what I've eaten since we moved here.) He came back out a few minutes later and started waving his finger at me. "Don't you ever do that again," he said. "Eating bugs is a sign of mental illness."
I didn't know what to say, so I nodded, and played with my squeak toy.

Feb 27:
Gary came over and we all sat on the deck.
Bill went inside to answer the phone, and as soon as he did, Gary took four bugs out of his pocket, and we each ate two. Gary is so cool. He said, "Whatever you do, don't tell Billy."
My lips are sealed.

Feb 28:
Bill was fine all day, but he really came down on me afterdinner about my toys. Ever since the move he's turning into like this TOTAL rule freak. Outdoor toys stay outside. Inside toys stay inside. No squeak toys after 9 p.m. Yada,
yada, yada. Then he went on this total RAMPAGE, picking all my toys up off the floor, tossing them back into the box, and saying, "Can't you put these things away when you're done with
them?" I don't mind sitting, rolling over, and shaking hands, but I draw the line at putting away toys. If he wanted a monkey,why the heck didn't he buy one?

Feb 29:
I finally figured out that I can get into the yard by myself. And it's so easy! All you have to do is push the screen door open with your nose. A puppy could do it. Anyway, when Bill
saw me outside he said, "I thought I brought you in," and then let me back into the kitchen. Naturally, I pushed to door open again with my nose and returned to the yard, just to show him how I clever I am.Well, this is never a good idea, especially when you'reliving with the control freak of the century. Within 15 minutes he screwed a hook onto the screen, and gave me this whole lecture about who's in charge around here. I can't even imagine what he's going to do when he finds out that I can use the microwave.

March 1:
Well, I guess it had to happen sooner or later. I saw a squirrel on the fence. And, when he ran into the nextyard, I made a beeline for my secret escape route. I wound up in the next yard somewhere, and then I couldn't find my
way back, so I went through some hedges, and wound up on the sidewalk. It was totally disorienting. I finally found my way back to the house, but I couldn't get back into the
yard because of the fence. How's that for ironic? So, I climbed the front steps and waited by the door. About 10 minutes later, Bill came out to get the mail, saw me, and

He then took me back into the yard, and started blocking up all of the openings in the fence -- even the ones I CAN'T fit through-- with rocks, lumber, whatever he could find. Is this fair? "I'm doing this because I love you," he said, "and I don't want anything to happen to you. Do you understand?" I didn't, at first, but then, the more I thought about it, the more Ifigured he meant it. And I was kind of touched by the whole thing, to tell you the truth. So, when we went back inside I licked his forehead and made him some popcorn in the microwave.

"WHAT IS THIS?" he yelled. There is just no pleasing the man.


by Bill Ervalino