A little background to set the scene: The Bad Man and I teach high school at the same school, and we have about a 40 minute commute to work. We live in the Deep South, in a wide spot in the road that cannot be called a village, much less a town. We have a post office, bank, Dollar General, elementary school, and a few random locally-owned businesses I can count on one hand. We live in the heart of this wide spot so our house is readily visible from the road.
We are heading home from work, much later than usual due to bus duty and a late bus, when The Bad Man received a phone call from Local Guy. We have a bad habit of not answering our phones, but I am worried since we have two escapist dogs so I answered the phone.
Local Guy starts the phone call with a phrase that stops my heart: "Do you guys have a big white bulldog?" We don't, but we do have a huge white lab who is over 100 lbs and is solid muscle. I respond with yes, and he continues: "I was driving by and it didn't look good, so I stopped to make sure and it was even worse than it looked." At this point I've stopped breathing, thinking that Pete, the gargantuan lab, has been hit by a car or truck - he is barely a year old and is a moody, sneaky, loving, devious almost-always-in-trouble child.
Local Guy then confuses me: "Will he bite? Where do you want me to put the stuff? It looks like a ball joint, or something Bill (aka, The Bad Man) ordered, and maybe a shirt you ordered?" I start breathing; Pete is alive (for now) and apparently has opened some packages that were delivered. Local Guy puts the goods on top of our truck's tool chest so Pete cannot destroy (any further) the contents of the packages.
When we drive up, the first thing we see is Pete proudly posing amongst a litter of cardboard and packing strewn all over the yard. The boxes had been completely opened and the parts that were not shredded were laying flat under Pete. Thanks to Local Guy the contents were safe.
Yeah, we've not heard the end of this - Pete's antics will be a topic of discussion at the Local Watering Hole. Thank goodness, though, for a close-knit community that looks out for its members.
This is DeepSouthCountryLiving.
