It seemed innocent enough. My cousin Trish Hudson had been talking about having my wife and I, along with my sisters over for a meal sometime. My sister’s birthday had just passed a couple of days earlier, and I got one of those notifications in Facebook that said “Trish Hudson mentioned you in a post”. I clicked the link, glanced at it quickly, and totally misunderstood.
Gini’s Mom was becoming more insistent that Celtic (our Boston Terrier) was “hers”, and he wasn’t as thrilled with the idea. She would pick him up and carry him around (he’s really way too heavy for that); when she put him in her lap, he was too heavy and uncomfortable for her. Plus, he’d “escape” the first chance he got, and run to Gini.
Things seemed so calm, but the sudden panic attack was near. It was almost 11pm, and we were at our daughter’s house with the grandsons (who were all now in bed). Gini had fallen asleep after fighting the battle of the bedtime to a draw with the oldest of the two; and I was watching the last of “Dawn of the Planet of the Apes” on HBO.
This is a bit of a long story, probably too long for a blog post; but a story worth telling. It’s about the worst, and best, Mexican vacation I’ve had. You can probably guess it had a happy ending, but we definitely weren’t sure it would turn out that way as events were unfolding.