May 22nd 2009 10:39 am
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When I came upon the scene at the "Pre Mulligan Compound." Wait a minute. For Dog's sake, how big WAS Mulligan's ego? Samson, the Great Wall of Wolf Hybrid lived here. I lived here. And Mulligan names this 0.6 Acres of Suburbia after Mulligan?

Samson raised Oldest Lad. I, Tyler, raised Middle Lad, and got Little Lad well on his way. Hmmph.

Anyhoo, when I, Tyler, came upon the scene, the home was in much disarray. Mom was quite rotund with Little Lad in her belly. After years of "trying," and several surgeries to fix her (not fix her like female dogs are fixed, but fix her so she, well whatever,) Dad had managed to Do His Part (he was never at fault) just in time before he fell apart and was "out of commission in that department" for several months due to serious back injury and surgery. Mom vomited her way through most of the first half of her pregnancy, yet Little Lad grew HUGE; one would never suspect that since he now is in less than the Tenth Percentile. The TYLER Compound was OVER-Run by MICE and MOLES. Dad could not even bend to load the dishwasher. Mom used to threaten that if Dad was not nice to her she would put the shampoo and soap on the shower floor, since then he would not be able to wash.

As soon as I got here I began to dispense with the MOLES. Oh, yeah, those Moles that I did not dig up and eat, quickly left their tunnels and moved to adjacent yards.

The MICE? Well, Mom and Dad had to have an Exterminator come into the house to treat for mice. The mice began to die off. In the walls. In the Duct Work. It was summer. Every time the Air Conditioning came on, the smell of decaying flesh filled the house. Mom called the Exterminator. He said: "Oh that is great! If the mice are dying in the Ducts, then their bodies will dry out quickly!" Mom and Dad did not think it so great.

No visitors were invited to the house for fear the AC would come on and the house would be filled with the smell of decaying mice.

At that time, Middle Lad was undergoing intensive Speech Therapy. Mom was sitting in the Observation Room, watching Middle Lad having Speech Therapy via a TV monitor and head phones. Middle Lad was, in his speech that was about 10% Intelligible, animatedly trying to talk to the Speech Therapist about "The Odor." He kept pointing at the Walls. The Ceiling. Then talking about "The Odor."

Mom was in absolute stitches in the Observation Room, with no way to explain to the poor Speech Therapist what Middle Lad was trying to express, knowing that Middle Lad was talking about The Odor in the walls and Air Ducts. After his session, Mom met up with Middle Lad and the Speech Therapist and had to explain all about "The Odor." Fortunately this Speech Therapist had a daughter on the same swim team as Oldest Lad, so she already knew Mom was an absolute Nut Case.

I, Tyler, could get rid of the Moles. I could teach Little Lad to Read. I could not dig the Mice out of the Walls and Air Ducts. OK, I could have been like Pennie or Mulli and Dug the Mice out of the walls, but I HAD MANNERS.