My lovely mother’s birthday was this weekend! Happy Birthday Gigi!! So, on Friday evening, Hubbit, Flea, Bug and I jumped into the Swagger Wagon and headed over to my grandparent’s house to celebrate with a little cake, a little ice cream and more than a few laughs.
I’ve always loved seeing my extended family and enjoyed their silliness, but until I started this blog I never realized almost every time we all get together, I end up in tears from laughing so hard!
At Thanksgiving the laughs came from my grandmother dumping a plate of food on my grandfather’s head. On Christmas they were caused by the emergence of what I’m certain is an under-ground-Uno-Attack-operation, ran by my 73-year-old grandmother. However, this weekend the laughs were not due to a family member...but a neighbor.
Here's how it went down:
At most of the family events held at my grandparent’s house there is a point in the celebration where myself, my mother, my grandmother, my aunt and sometimes our kids, gather for a while in the dining room. We sit around the dining room table, chatting and catching up on the latest "news", which rarely could actually be considered legitimate "news", but is promised to ALWAYS be entertaining.
As we were chatting, Flea entered the room, squinted and made a strange face toward my grandparents’ organ piano, where there are several photographs displayed. He then turned to my grandmother and asked, “Who’s Coco?”
Before she could answer, I turned to the organ to see what Flea had discovered. There, I spotted what appeared to be a very new calendar someone had made for the holidays. You know, the type where you take 12 photos of your kids or family to the Wal-Mart photo center and they create a nice family memento for you to enjoy all year long? The type with each month featuring a different picture of your sweet little kids looking as if they are nothing but angels, even though you are 99.9% they are the cause of every wrinkle on your face?
It was THAT type. Only, it didn’t feature family members. It featured Coco.
It was not a calendar of the famously fashionable Coco Chanel, the hilariously inappropriate Conan “Coco” O’Brien, or the beautiful-or-skanky-depends-on-who-you-ask wife of rapper Ice-T, Coco Austin.
No, it was a 12-month calendar of Coco…The Neighbor’s Pomeranian.
In total disbelief, I picked up the calendar and started flipping through it, almost expecting each page to contain something other than...Coco. I initially thought perhaps the furry hairball was only the cover model and there would be something like...maybe humans...somewhere in the middle.
NOPE.
Each of the 12 months featured a lovely photograph of Coco The Pomeranian, posing like the supermodel dog he or she apparently is in training to become. I sware, the dog could strike a pose even Tyra Banks would call “fierce”.
Confused, I turned to my aunt...
Me: Um. Who’s dog is this?
Auntie: The neighbor’s. He lives around the corner and down the street a few houses.
Me: Who is he?
Auntie: Well, he’s a little strange and his wife’s Japanese.
Me: Uh, did he give this calendar to you guys?
Auntie: Yep. Around Christmas time, he came around with this little calendar for us. He also gave us a refrigerator magnet.
I could not believe my ears. I’ve heard of people bringing candy, fruit cakes, holiday cards or dinner to their neighbors during the holidays but I have NEVER heard of people giving calendars of...THEIR DOG. He actually paid to have this made for my grandparents!
Oh. Em. Gee.
By this time, I was laughing so hysterically that tears were pouring down my cheeks and I was forcing myself to squeeze my legs together, just so I didn’t pee my pants. As my aunt kept talking about the neighbor, I did the “Pee-Pee Dance” into the kitchen. Lo and Behold! Right there on the side of the fridge was a 5’7 magnet of Coco’s furry face.
Of course, I am no stranger to crazy neighbors. After all, I previously lived next door to a paranoid schizophrenic for eight years, who unexpectedly jumped my fence every time I was in the backyard, insisted on calling me “Hannah” because he SWORE it’s what my name actually was AND caused me to regularly be questioned by the police because he liked to call 9-1-1, tell them President Bush asked him to call when the aliens were about to attack, and then refused to answer his door when they arrived.
But, I guess just when you think you’ve seen it all...here comes Coco!
Whitney
"A good neighbor is a fellow who smiles at you over the back fence, but doesn't climb over it." (Arthur Baer)
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