Dad and Slim
Today is my Dad’s 78th birthday–he died too soon for an Osborne.
After Mom died, Dad lived with my family and me for a couple of years. One of his “jobs” was to let Slim, our dog, in and out. Both being gentle spirits, they bonded. I’m pretty sure Slim took advantage of Dad’s generous spirit, asking to go in and out way more often than absolutely necessary, but Dad never complained.
One day when we came home from work Dad had to tell us that day’s events. Evidently a low flying hot air balloon chose right over our yard to open the burner, and it was not equipped with one of the “whisper burners” sometimes used to keep from spooking livestock. Slim and Dad were in the back yard at the time, but not for long. Slim was spooked, to say the least. My dad was a quiet guy, but he was laughing so hard, he could hardly tell the story. And he laughed that hard each time he told the story. (I regret to say that bathroom humor was probably the only other topic that made him laugh that hard.)
We had a laugh here at home today remembering that event when we were trying to inflate one of those large exercise balls and Slim went ballistic, so to speak–he started barking and biting at the ball. We had to send him outside. Hubbo is sure he (Slim) was recalling the balloon experience.
I’m thinking Dad probably had one more laugh at Slim’s expense.
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