Paternity
Scoop looked up with eyes that said, “Okay, that’s enough.”
The redbrown mutt that wraps me around her sharp claws at every opportunity was tired. She had given up on following me around the house and had curled up on a messed up bed. She doesn’t get tired very often. She runs pedal-down all day long and only collapses when she just can’t stand to stand any longer.
It was endearing. I crawled onto the bed and nuzzled her with my nose. I don’t know why I do that, but it makes me feel like a Daddy Dog. It made me happy.
Friday night I transformed myself into Purposeful Drunk. I watched hockey, I went to our bar, I went to a friend’s house. I drank beer in all three places with many good friends.
As the evening began, G-Rob–a man with powerful sperm and a willingness to use them–bailed. His wife showed up as we were in pre-hockey preparations. She was carrying the kids. He melted and faded away into the weekend.
As he left, I yelled out a common barb: “I think Eckerd had Gold Bond Powder on sale if you want to pick some up on the way home!” I only use that joke when I think my male friends have developed a case of irritated female private parts. It’s not a polite joke and I use it too much.
G-Rob took it in good humor and took his kids in his arms.
Only a day earlier, his new car had been t-boned by a big pickup. He wasn’t carrying the kids at the time, but later reflected that if he had been, they might have been badly hurt.
Later that evening, as the hops and barley did its work, I started talking babies. I don’t even recall what I said, but it ended with my wife saying, “You want a BABY.”
I’m pretty damned sure I ain’t a daddy. To paraphrase Sam Malone of Cheer’s fame, “I haven’t received any father’s day cards recently.” But, I’m starting to appreciate the idea behind fatherhood.
I’m in no position to have a child right now. I am far too irresponsible. I’m far too selfish. But, as I think about the young man who gave up a night of sports and drinking to go home and have dinner with his wife and young daughters, I think fatherhood may not be a bad thing.
There is no moral to this story. It is poorly-written and without a clear message.
But as I watched my dog collapse in exhaustion and felt no greater desire than to chill out with her for a few minutes, I understood a small percentage of what it must be like to care about something more than you care about yourself.
I can’t guarantee I won’t accuse G-Rob of having irritated female parts ever again. That can be really funny sometimes.
But I don’t think I will chastise him for being a good daddy anymore.
Funny where a jaded guy will find nobility, huh?
