You know my penchant for breaking into song at any given moment, and often I sing songs from my youth. In grade three, at Osoyoos Elementary Junior Secondary School, I remember happy music classes in which all 30 of us would sing. Mrs. Kretz would lead us along in a merry song, such as Little Brown Jug. You know the one:
“My wife and I live all alone in a little log hut we call our own.
She loves gin, and I love rum, I tell you what we’ve lots of fun
Ha ha ha, you and me, little brown jug don’t I love thee?
Ha ha ha, you and me, little brown jug don’t I love thee!”
The beloved and feared principal, Mr. McLeod would walk by, beaming at the sound of our eight-year-old voices belting out someone’s joy for booze. It could now become a scene out of a Simpson’s episode, but songs like that were totally normal in the 60’s. I miss the heady and wonderful days before politcal correctness killed all of our fun!
And speaking of having fun killed, a couple of days ago I was racing around the neighbourhood like a crazed cow. We spent thousands of dollars to have a fence installed so that the dogs would be safe. However, for some reason, Nicky isn’t able to close the gate behind himself whenever he leaves. So, the other day I was doing something when it hit me: the tiny dog hadn’t been around in ages.
Arnie, being 13 years old, blind and deaf, and partially senile, doesn’t leave the yard. However, whenever they get the chance, Mojo and Ricky like to run down to Hall Road, where they like to play chicken with trucks and other large vehicles. I raced out whistling and calling, and seeing the gate open, feared the worst.
I then ran down to Hall Road, whistling and calling, looking into the ditch for the corpse. Nothing! Our neighbour was outside, and I said to him that our tiny dog was missing. He suspected that the dog was probably in the yard, avoiding me. I went back home, and finally the stupid dog came when I called. By this time, I had spent 20 minutes searching for the animal, which I now wanted to beat.
But then I realized that the being deserving the beating was Nicky, who won’t close the gate. I suppose I should be thankful, as running up and down our driveway with high adrenalin levels is probably a good way to lose a bit of weight.
And now Easter looms, with its reams of chocolate. I’ve spent the past week trying hard not to eat nasty foods, so not sure what will happen, though I’m suspecting it won’t be good. I’m something like the guy from the Little Brown Jug song, though subsitute white wine and chocolate for the rum and it’s about right. Now to purchase the proper little jug and we’re all set!