"No, no," she said. "Read what goes with it."

"Well, it looks like it's pushing some sort of wonder drug to help old dogs."

"The fine print!" she snapped. "Read the fine print."

So I read aloud: "Some common signs of canine cognitive dysfunction syndromes . . ."

"Now you're getting it."

"Hmm. Doesn't recognize you. Sleeps less at night. Forgets housetraining. Loses interest in family." I looked up. "Is that what you wanted me to read?"

She nodded. "Doesn't that sound like you?"

"Me? How can you say that? I'm still into my housetraining."

"That may be next. You do lose interest in your family when you get into writing a book. And how about last week when you walked right past me as I stood in the grocery check out line, and you didn't even nod?"

"So I had my eye on the blond behind you -- the one wearing the white short-shorts. Besides, when have I ever had trouble sleeping at night."

"Last night."

"Yeah, but that was an aberration."

"Yes, an aberration that occurs every time you nap all day."

I studied the woman. "This is something deeper, isn't it? This isn't at all about cognitive dysfunction. This is about the brace of mud hens I left in the kitchen sink, back in 1962. Or the time I laughed when you were thrown out of the raft going through Devil's Elbow."

She sniffed. "You must have forgotten how hilarious you thought it when I was stranded on that limestone ledge on the Chinese Wall."

"Or when your horse bucked you off because your saddlebags slid between his hind legs."

She giggled. "How abut the time with the rattlesnake?"

"You mean the one with the garden hose in the weed bed, andthe rattling seed pods made you think it was a rattler on the make?" This was fun, so I continued: "And don't forget the grizzly bear that kept you pinned in the ranger station outhouse."

She turned sober. "I thought you would've tried to help."

"I wanted to, but he was a BIG grizzly and I have only a little courage. Besides, being pinned inside an outhouse is a good place for you to work on your own potty training."

She nodded. "That's true. Before he left, I had it down perfect."

Still snickering, my wife left the room to reappear moments later shrugging into her jacket. She picked up her purse. "Where are you off to?" I asked.

She patted my head and scratched behind one of my ears. "Your cognitive powers has shown tremendous improvement just since we began talking about this new medicine to give old dogs a new lease on life. I thought I'd check with our veterinarian and see if he will prescribe it."

"Why?" I said. "We don't have an old dog."

"We haven't," she replied. "But I do."

 

Next week? Another walk on the wild side.