The Timmy Talk
Mar. 28th, 2005 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7A twenty-pound dog is taking up my entire bed.
Also, she is dreaming. Which involves snorting and twitching.
Another (unrelated, I swear) amusing anecdote from dinner the other night comes from Dave's mom, who has a fairly active social life that puts mine pretty well to shame (for a brief span, within these brackets, I'd attempted to count the days since I had any meaningful social interactions, and I include non-auto-generated emails in that, but it was just depressing so I deleted it and y'all can be blessed by not knowing just how sad my life is).
Anyway.
Dave's mom, who has friends, and goes out and sees them on a regular basis, was telling this story.
Now one of her friends is Dave's buddy Chris's mom, Mrs. P. Mrs. P. teaches Catholic school and has done so for years. She teaches elementary school. She is one of those petite little terrifying Catholic school teachers who can make you rue your birth without ever raising her voice. In fact, i don't think she ever does raise her voice.
Mrs. P's children are all grown and have left the house. Her husband passed away some years ago. So she lives alone now.
With the family dog, Timmy.
Who is quite old, and as a result is somewhat senile and incontinent.
She recounted to Dave's mom and other friends at dinner the other night that she sat down one evening with the dog, shortly after an episode in which he'd crapped all over the house again, and gave him The Talk. The Timmy Talk, it is now named.
"Now Timmy," she said, in her eminently reasonable Catholic-schoolteacher tone. "You've had a long and full life, and for many years have brought joy to the people of this household. Indeed I would say yours has been a rewarding life. But I am sad to say that times have changed, and the people of the house have moved on. You likewise have changed. Timmy, don't you think it's time that you died?"
Thusfar Timmy has refused to oblige her, and the various adult children of the household are all adamant that Timmy should not in any way be aided in his departure from this mortal coil. Meanwhile, Timmy continues to crap all over the house. And "the Timmy Talk" has passed into the parlance of Mrs. P's social circle.
Also, she is dreaming. Which involves snorting and twitching.
Another (unrelated, I swear) amusing anecdote from dinner the other night comes from Dave's mom, who has a fairly active social life that puts mine pretty well to shame (for a brief span, within these brackets, I'd attempted to count the days since I had any meaningful social interactions, and I include non-auto-generated emails in that, but it was just depressing so I deleted it and y'all can be blessed by not knowing just how sad my life is).
Anyway.
Dave's mom, who has friends, and goes out and sees them on a regular basis, was telling this story.
Now one of her friends is Dave's buddy Chris's mom, Mrs. P. Mrs. P. teaches Catholic school and has done so for years. She teaches elementary school. She is one of those petite little terrifying Catholic school teachers who can make you rue your birth without ever raising her voice. In fact, i don't think she ever does raise her voice.
Mrs. P's children are all grown and have left the house. Her husband passed away some years ago. So she lives alone now.
With the family dog, Timmy.
Who is quite old, and as a result is somewhat senile and incontinent.
She recounted to Dave's mom and other friends at dinner the other night that she sat down one evening with the dog, shortly after an episode in which he'd crapped all over the house again, and gave him The Talk. The Timmy Talk, it is now named.
"Now Timmy," she said, in her eminently reasonable Catholic-schoolteacher tone. "You've had a long and full life, and for many years have brought joy to the people of this household. Indeed I would say yours has been a rewarding life. But I am sad to say that times have changed, and the people of the house have moved on. You likewise have changed. Timmy, don't you think it's time that you died?"
Thusfar Timmy has refused to oblige her, and the various adult children of the household are all adamant that Timmy should not in any way be aided in his departure from this mortal coil. Meanwhile, Timmy continues to crap all over the house. And "the Timmy Talk" has passed into the parlance of Mrs. P's social circle.
