Lucy's Bad Teeth

I’m a bad dog-mother. I don’t brush my dog’s teeth like I’m supposed to; apparently ‘they say’ it should be done every day. Seriously, who does that? What convenient timing to have to drive my dog Lucy to the vet for a teeth cleaning while I’m waiting for an answer to “Does your wife know about me?” Now I’m thinking I should probably start brushing Lucy’s teeth every day. Especially so this doesn’t happen again at another crucial moment in a Facebook messaging flurry.

I have a new message, but I have to get Lucy in because I know if it’s not the answer I’m hoping for I may look teary-eyed like an extremely over-protective dog-parent who thinks her dog may keel over dead from having a teeth cleaning.

Lucy’s in. I quickly run back to the car, message is still waiting for me.

Message, to Haley from Kevin “Yes, she and I met in grade eight and were friends for many years prior to dating in our early twenties. I told her about your note to me a few days ago, and she is very positive, she has known since Camille and I were together.” 

Thank you Jesus! Would it have been a deal-breaker if she hadn’t known? I’m not sure. But it wouldn’t have been ideal, to say the least. I wonder what she’s like.