I started up my Chevy and set out to get the mail. I drive my Silverado every noontime without fail.
Our black mailbox, just off the road, a half a mile away, sets on a row of mailboxes where the neighbors drive each day.
I hadn’t left the driveway. She was waving me on down. My wife asked, “Can I go along and later drive to town?”
There ain’t no way resisting an invitation from my gal. She’d be riding shotgun next to me. She’s more than just my pal.
But then I saw Miss Daisy. She’s our Labrador plus poodle. I understand the proper name is simply Labradoodle.
Miss Daisy always sits at shotgun when she rides with me. I wondered who would win the spot. I couldn’t wait to see.
I reached across the seat and opened-up the shotgun door. But I couldn’t see Miss Daisy or my wife there anymore.
Did I really hear the tailgate slamming down on my old truck? They climbed back in the cargo bed. This had to be bad luck!
So, there I sat behind the wheel and feeling like a fool. Who says your wife at shotgun is the one unbroken rule.
I hollered back and asked her. “So, no shotgun for my wife?” She said, “I’ll ride in back with Daisy, the love of my whole life.”
Those words sounded like replacement by Miss Daisy who wears fur. And demoted to Miss Daisy’s own personal chauffeur.
Would nosey drivers look at us? Say, “They’ve been in a fight.” If so, I figured they would be the Gladys Kravitz type.
Well, sure enough my cell phone buzzed while texts came flying in. The gossip traveled faster than the juiciest of sin.
One text, now from an exfriend, to be certain that I’ll save. Said, “If your father knew, he would roll over in his grave.”
My wife was laughing, near to tears, what she and Daisy caused. A case of misconception. A dose of daily flaws.
So, no matter what you’re doing when your wife and dog step in. Just take a breath and suck it up. ‘Cuz cowboy you can’t win.
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