May 25, 2007

The New Arrival

I'm getting ready to go back east to visit my family. They are all there, save one-my son who lives in San Francisco. My younger son, my sister, my parents, my niece and nephews and their spouses and offspring are all living back in Indiana, where I spent my formative years learning to eat breaded pork tenderloins and talk through my nose.

I treasure my time with them. It goes too quickly and the visits are too far apart to suit me. When I was working full-time, scarce vacation days were the issue. Now that I'm self-employed, it's money that holds me back.

This visit, there are many things to catch up on. My son Tom has a new home and job, my nephew Nathan and his bride have a new son, my brother-in-law is retiring to devote time to his art, and my parents, thank God, are in reasonable health and good humor.

New additions to the family are always a cause for joyous celebration, but there is one newcomer I'm afraid to meet. Since coming to the home that my sister and our parents share, she has waged a fierce jihad that has rendered the adults virtual hostages in their own home.

"She's a terror!" reported Mom during our last phone call. "I'm afraid to walk around my own house!"

"We're being sensitive to her needs," said Dad, "but she still goes into a frenzy at the drop of a hat."

With my sister and her husband still working, it falls to my parents to raise the new baby. As much as they love their adopted granddaughter, at 83 they don't have the energy to keep up with her. When the parents get home from work, the grandparents retire to their room and collapse. They fall asleep during the 6:00 news.

The holy terror's name is Molly. She's ten weeks old and is already teething. Her sharp little incisors have taken chunks out of hands, feet and table legs. They gave her a pacifier to chew on, but she prefers clamping her little jaws around human flesh.

It's not like her parents didn't have their eyes open. They set out to adopt a baby with particular characteristics. They preferred one with a spunky temperament. They wanted her to be from a good family. They specified a black one with brown eyes who didn't shed and was hypoallergenic. They didn't mind paying a premium price for one that was housebroken. The trouble is, they didn't realize how hard it would be to discipline a furry little ball of canine cuteness.

"Come on!" I said to Mom. "I can't believe that four adults can be terrorized by a three-pound dog!"

"You wait and see," she said, a smirk in her voice.

And so I shall. Now if you'll excuse me, Corky is demanding to go for a walk and I don't dare make her wait.