The long, slow, dog days of summer are a time for visitors so when my brother from Ocala called to see if he could come down I was thrilled. Despite the fact that the only thing my brother and I have in common is that we both breathe air, we are best friends and life is always exciting when he comes to town. For our entire lives we have been engaged in a running battle to make each other crazy, so I told him to come on down, and then paused for a moment. “Is your current wife coming?”
He did not take the bait. He told me that his current wife, who wants to be an Evangelical minister, was going to a weekend seminar to learn how to speak in tongues. She invited him along, but the last time he accompanied her to a seminar like this he went to dinner with his wife and some conference attendees and he could not understand the conversation at dinner. “Have you ever tried to understand people speaking in tongues withe their mouths full?” he said. “It’s tough.” So he decided to come to Fort Lauderdale for the weekend instead.
He paused and cleared his throat. “Is Ginger going to be there?” he asked me.
This question was calculated to send me into orbit. Ginger is my favorite of our three cats. She is generally lethargic and shy, but she adores my brother. Through some innate feline sense she knows that my brother is not especially fond of cats and that, when he remembers, he is allergic to them. “Of course Ginger will be here,” I said; “she lives here.”
He paused: “I suppose I have to share a room with her again?” he asked.
This gets awkward. You see, our house has only two bedrooms. One of the benefits of having lived in South Florida my whole life is that virtually everyone I know also lives in South Florida, so houseguests are rare. Since the only time the guestroom is used is when my brother visits, Ginger has adopted the room as her own. She sleeps on the bed , and keeps her litter box and food dish in there. A headstrong cat who can open any door in the house, there is no way we could keep her out of “her” room. “Yes,” I said. “You’ll be rooming with Ginger again. Bring Benadryl,” I added.
He arrived Friday afternoon on his Harley, which annoys the neighbors. “Global warming is a hoax,” he said by way of greeting. “I hung a picture of Nancy Pelosi in your room,” I responded. As soon as we settled down, Ginger came rushing out as fast as her fat little legs would carry her, and made a flying leap into his lap, spilling his Diet Pepsi and making him aspirate a pretzel. “Ginger,” he said without enthusiasm, as she arched her back and rubbed against him before settling down in his lap for a long nap “I’d enjoy the visit more if it wasn’t for Ginger,” he said, and sneezed.
He was still sneezing on Sunday night, when, red eyed and swollen, he prepared for the long drive home. “Next time,” he said, “you need to come up to Ocala.”
“It depends.” I said “ Will your current wife be there?”
“Yes,” said my brother. “Bring Benadryl.” ”