White Dog and the rest of the White Dog Army loves to hear stories of the old days before they were part of our lives and are fascinated by tales of the ancient times before Steve and I had ANY pets save a tarantula and an iguana. The were arrayed around me in rapt attention.
"Back at the beginning of time when Dad and I first met our lives were very different than now," I began and the WDA inched closer. "Dad courted me by sharing his love of music and dancing. I was not ever as au courant as Dad is and he was even more so then. This was back in a time before you and your birth mommas and possibly even your birth grandmas...35 years ago!" The White Ones nodded, understanding that I was talking a LONG time ago.
I continued, "Dad was an avid participant in the original punk music scene and we spent countless dates dancing at O'Banyon's in Chicago, shopping for the records of obscure bands at WaxTraxx (they were round vinyl disks that were made to sing by dragging a needle over them)." "Sounds painful," YoYoMa said, "I would sing, too."
"We wore torn jeans held together with safety pins." "Were you poor?" Puff asked. "No more than the usual college kid, but no, we tore them on purpose to look cool." White Dog shook her head. "When dad went out on dates he used hair gunk to make his hair stand straight up and I put on dark blue lipstick and nail polish. I wore a necklace of red plastic lobsters and sometimes I would bring my pet tarantula, Man, (spider man, get it) with me in a soft pouch I wore around my neck." "You wore SPIDERS?" "Yes, Sweet Oso, he was very nice and would sit on my shoulder."
"You are kind of scaring me, momma," WD said. "You never dress like that now." "Well, Little White Dog of My Heart, that is kind of the point I am leading up to."
"If way back in those clouded mists of yesterday someone would have told me that at 57 I would be going to a concert featuring Blondie and X at the Santa Fe Opera House on a Monday Night I would have laughed for two reasons: the absurdity of the idea of living to be so old and the scene itself."
"Yeah, that would be pretty crazy," the WDA wagged and agreed.
"It might have been EXCEPT that is exactly what dad and I are doing tonight. Going to a punk concert at one of the world's foremost opera houses. Who would have thought?"
"WHY????" was the chorus, followed by "we have heard some of that music when we are alone with dad in the car; it is really loud and pounding. We do not have to go do we?"
"No White Ones, it is a charity concert benefiting the Espanola Valley Humane Society and our friend Wyatt, the sweet three-legged boy, is the spokesdog since he came from there."
White Dog looked at me with eyes wide. I could tell she had an important question. "You and dad. You aren't going to dress like you used to are you? I mean you are, as you said, different now."
"Don't worry Little One, I will not embarrass you. The last time I wore a safety pin it was to hold up the fallen hem of my pants leg and you could not see it. BUT if he wants to, lets let dad get a little wild with nostalgia and maybe let him put a little extra mousse in his hair!"