It's All Relative

This week my sister, Mary from Illinois, arrived at mom and dad's with her husband, Mike, and Ray's first-cousin-once-removed, Vincent. My sisters and Mike and Vincent and, of course,  John, Yuko, and Hannah were all here to celebrate my mom's birthday. Ray's story started five years ago with my sisters, my mom's birthday, and a roadtrip. So, while we were celebrating mom's 91 years on this earth, mentally, I was celebrating Ray's arrival into the lives of Gregg and I.

Ray spent his vacation in the usual way:

• Walking with his cousin, Flower Power
• Playing with Hannah, yelling at her, and chasing her around when she stole his bone
• Getting his belly rubbed by doting relatives
• Laying in the sun
• Stealing Vincent's coon-skin cap and trying to shred it



Well, how was I supposed to know it was a hat, 
it smells like a dog toy.

• Yelling at the neighbors splashing in their swimming pool

Well, actually the last two are new things for Ray. I couldn't blame him for stealing Vincent's hat. Ray had a dog toy that was remarkably similar in appearance. As for the swimming neighbors, this is the first time we've visited mom and dad when someone was actually using the pool next door. Ray has the same reaction to people splashing in pools that he does to waves splashing on the beach. I'm guessing that Ray thought that all the people were drowning. Although our household found it funny, the neighbors were not amused so Ray spent a considerable amount of the last two days confined to the house.

You're right, it is better as a hat.
(photo courtesy of Vincent)

Because of the extra guests in the house, Ray and I were relegated to the guest room that had only one twin bed, a room that we had never inhabited before. Since Ray always starts out the night on the couch and makes his way to the bedroom sometime in the middle of the night, I was worried that Mary and Mike would be joined by an unexpected roommate. Ray, however, had no problem identifying the correct bedroom. At his usual mid-night hour, he shoved open the bedroom door and stood bedside, whining to be hauled up. But Ray is a total bedhog and there wasn't much of a bed to begin with, so I had strategically placed his mattress on the floor next to me. After whining and pacing and whining and pacing, and jumping his feet up on the edge of the bed and whining some more, Ray finally gave up and settled down on his bed.

Definite grassy notes with a hint of cat, dirt, and weeds. 
A fine bouquet indeed.

The next morning, I woke up to feel the mattress moving. As there was no dog carcass on the bed with me, I was momentarily confused. I groggily looked over the side of the bed and saw only half a dog. At some point after Ray had settled in on his cushion, his back end had slid off and ended up under the bed. Unable to see where he was or what had happened to his back legs, Ray was well and truly stuck.
I stifled my laugh. Ray does not have good luck with twin beds. No wonder he is afraid of them.
The next night Ray made the wise decision to spend the entire night on the couch.