September 5, 2007

Mrs. Cranky Pants Complains

The heat wave has me wearing cranky pants, and every little thing honks me off. Keeper knows my temper flares during hot weather, and he suggested ways to escape the heat.

First we tried the dog park, which, even on a sweltering day, has a stiff breeze and a shade tree. Corky always feels like she is the hostess when we go there. She greets every new arrival, makes sure they know where the water is, and then invites them to play. Sure, she tends to jump on people-she loves to kiss, and every face within range is fair game. We're working on that.

We had settled in under the tree for a nice chat with the human companions of a long-haired beauty rescued from a shelter and a Chihuahua who, putting fashion over comfort, was wearing a little blue shirt. We turned toward the gate at the opposite end of the dog run when we heard it creak open. In trotted a beagle, wagging her tail in greeting. Corky rushed over to greet her, but her focus was immediately diverted to the humans who accompanied the beagle: two little boys, one of whom had a sticky face she could reach without jumping. She did what dogs do-she went for the face and commenced licking. This did not suit the boys' father, who scooped them up, but soon put them down again. All the dog owners had to restrain their dogs because of his kids. The fun was over. We put Corky on her leash and left after a few minutes.

"Why would you let toddlers run loose in a dog park?" I asked Keeper. He recognized this as a warm-up and settled back for a full-blown rant.

I continued, "I mean, this is the only place that dogs can run off leash. It's important for them to be able to exercise and socialize with other dogs."

I wound up for the big finish. "I should have asked him how he'd like it if I took my dog to the playground and expected all the parents to keep their kids away from her!"

"It wasn't very polite of him," agreed Mr. Mellow.

My tantrum had done nothing to cool me off, so we decided to go to the movies, where the air was cool but the atmosphere annoying. First, I was questioned about my movie choice by the popcorn guy, who was either under orders to chat up the customers so that they wouldn't notice the popcorn was stale, or was hoping to be discovered as a possible guest host on Siskel & Ebert.

While we munched on our $16 snack, we were forced to sit through commercials for third-rate TV shows debuting this fall. I admired the marketing genius behind this idea even while I was horrified by it.

The movie was mediocre, but the seats were cushy, the air-conditioning was blasting, and Keeper let me use the armrest a full 50 percent of the time. Life was, once again, good.

By the time the movie was over, the outside temperature had dropped to a pleasant 75 degrees, We stopped for the ultimate cool-down: an ice cream. We ordered small cups, paid, and sat down. I looked at the check and noticed that we had purchased the "under 12/over 60" size.

"Great! We got the senior discount!" I told Keeper.

"You're kidding," he said. "Do I look like I'm 60?" said my husband, who is actually 62, and will be insulted by people assuming he's eligible for a senior discount even when he's 96 and there can be no doubt.

Normally, when I'm Mrs. Cranky Pants, I would use this as a springboard to razz my husband about his unwillingness to own up to the fact that he's getting older, just like the rest of us, despite the fact that he can still run four miles.

But not that day. I sat there cool as a butterscotch sundae and took the bullet for the team. "Nah," I said. "It's me - I'm the one that got the discount."