The Ritual

Every night there is a ritual that occurs: almost every night anyway. Actually no, a ritual occurs every night it’s just what ritual. It involves the animals of the house and the child and the mother.


The mother perched in her seat is focused on crochet. The child is up and down up and down from the couch with the exclamation every now and then of “Please move penny.” Penny is our cattle dog mix puppy who lies next to mother at night. Once this begins, Penny knows what’s coming: She’s about to be called by me to move her from the spot the child wants nearest the mother. It happens over and again.

Now as this plays out with the occasional seating arrangement changes, the cat is coming down stairs and beginning his nightly ritual. His name is Oliver. Oliver will now assert himself into the mix by lying on the lap of the mother pawing at her legs trying to get her to go to bed so he can take his place with the father, me, and begin his nightly sleep. Cats sleep about an average of eighteen hours a day by the way. Yeah.

Now the mother has had enough and it is time for the child to wind down and go to bed. The mother prepares her crochet and gathers the things that will accompany her and the child to bed. This is the signal for Penny, the dog to prepare for bed as well. Once this trigger occurs, the child and dog both know that walking up the stairs to bed is eminent and the second part of the ritual begins.

Penny, I believe actually mimicking the mother and child will come to me and stand on her hind feet, embracing me about the shoulders nuzzling in my beard as if to give me a hug and kiss good night. Yes, I kid you not. She usually comes to me first before the child or mother, I don’t know if that is a good thing or not but I will tell myself it is. The cat sits back and monitors the situation for the right moment that he can pounce onto my chest and purr the night away.

The child will run to me and perform her ritual, Kiss to daddy! Then using symbols she points to her eye, “I”, makes a heart in her chest “Love” and finishes with a point to me “Daddy!” She then tells me she wants a kiss and a hug and her stuffed animal, currently a fluffy dog, must perform the same ritual. A month or so ago it was a tri-fecta of stuffed animals, the doe Clarisse from Rudolph, a ghost and a purple sock monkey.

The mother tells me she loves me as she leans over to kiss me good night; Penny waits for her last attack so she can leap in and get another hug and kiss getting the last word in as it were, and then trot off upstairs. Now the alteration to this ritual is that the child may go to sleep earlier and I carry her upstairs. Then the ritual involves the mother, the cat, and the dog.

In the wings is the oldest dog, a black lab mix Luke whim my wife has had for about eight or nine years. He perches at the top of the stairs to watch the disgraceful display of butt kissing the child and dog go through and you can hear the grunts of discontent as he moans in dog language aloud.

Yes I am just looking for the couch to be organized so I lay my big ole butt lazily as I watch a stupid on demand show or one of my old stand bys like the Da Vinci Code, Harry Potter or Silverado on DVD.

It’s a little bitter sweet in that I have been listening and talking all day long with other people and I just want an hour to stop my head from thinking. But, when they go, it’s relaxing and quiet yet I miss them too. I guess that’s why God made duct tape.

Yes, it’s like a kid’s story book. Either way, the dog always gets a hug and nuzzle.

I love you honey. XO