Ginger
I am a grandfather on active duty. Late yesterday afternoon, my assignment was to pick up Michael and Maria's 2 kids from pre-school. I had spent the day in their backyard, helping ready things for Amanda's 3rd birthday party. When it is time for me to leave, I see Ginger is still asleep, well on her way to meeting her 14-hour daily quota. Ginger is an eight-year-old, 70-pound Labradoodle who is the sweetest dog I've ever known. A cross between a Labrador Retriever and a Standard Poodle, the breed is often used as allergen-free guide dogs. I have never taken her with me to either drop off or pick up the kids. This strikes me as a curious oversight. Kids and dogs go together, especially when you're out for a ride. Noah and Amanda will be happy to see Ginger, and Ginger is always excited to see them. I can't imagine why I hadn't done this before.
Minutes later, we are down the steps and into the car. Ginger takes shot gun since the backseat of my car is occupied by two of the "Cadillac of child seats", according to the Honda dealership. My wife bought the seats and had them installed. I did not discover the cost involved until two years later, which is how families deal with relatives who somehow survived a childhood without child seats, or even seatbelts for that matter.
We arrive at the school, I punch in a secret code to open the security gate, and admit us to the parking lot. Ginger is blessed with incredible skills and instincts, yet despite her reluctance to get out of the car, I take her in with me. I open the gate into the school yard and start the security sign out procedure. This is much easier on the way in than the way out, when I am herding Noah and Amanda to the car, while loaded down with blankets, lunch pails, take home memos, drawings, glue-dripping collages and wet or dirty clothes needing to be replaced.
I look up from signing them out and Ginger is gone. Now I see her running back along the path that Noah takes to his class in the morning. Can she really have picked up his scent? I keep Ginger close to me as we bypass the rabbit cage and take the afternoon path to Noah's classroom. The rabbit casts a wary eye toward Ginger. Ginger sees kids running and playing in the yard, she is wagging her tail but remains perfectly calm as always. The comments from parents start, "My, what a beautiful BIG dog", and "Noah certainly has a BIG dog". This hits me the wrong way. Ginger is not BIG. An Irish Wolfhound is BIG. Somehow with the increasing population density, any dog that isn't small enough to fit on a charm bracelet, is suddenly BIG. I almost say, "Well, she's just a bitch", but decide against it.
I open the door to Noah's classroom and have Ginger lay down outside the door.
My thought is that there could be some kids who aren't comfortable around dogs so I'll play it safe. Noah sees me, comes running over to hug me, Ginger sees Noah and is now standing in the doorway. Ginger is now surrounded by almost every kid in the class. She is seated, still calm, as the kids poke, prod, and pull on her ears and her comical-looking long curly coat. I look up to see Noah's teacher's eyes the size of plates. He says, "I don't know which kids are allergic. To be safe, I have to ask that you keep the dog outside".
I said, "Oh sure, I understand. No problem."
The teacher begins to envision the public outcry and media frenzy swirling about the legal spectacle that will eclipse the Scopes trial. His concern causes me to reconsider my actions. I begin to think about the 11 o'clock news lead-in:
MAN EXPOSES KIDS TO DOG
Hours later, I sit at the dinner table with Michael, Maria and children, and begin thinking it may be best if I mention Ginger's visit to the pre-school.
I ask, "Noah, tell mommy and daddy about the special guest that came to visit you at school today".
Maria hearing this asks, "Who was the special guest, Noah?"
Noah, sees no connection between Ginger and "special guest", and is clueless. I get Noah's attention, and point to Ginger who is as usual is posing as a starving refugee beside the dinner table.
Noah says, "Ginger".
It is suddenly quiet, then Maria asks, "Grandpa took Ginger to school?"
This line is delivered much like in the movies when someone is asked, "Are you absolutely sure that it is nitroglycerin?"
Maria says to Michael, "We may be looking for a new school".
I tell them about the BIG comments and Noah's teacher's brief bout with Bell's Palsy. I offer, "Tell them the dog is hypo-allergenic".
The hypo-allergenic thing is in fact true as both Michael and Maria promoted this feature when picking out a dog for the family; and no, I am not exactly sure what it means but it has to be a positive.
Michael explains to Maria, "Dad has no idea what parents at the school are like".
I see that far off look in Maria's eyes that says, "At some point, one needs to consider assisted living".
When you are young and get out of line they threaten you with military school. When you're old and get out of line, they tell you what Tony Soprano told Lydia, "It's not a nursing home ma, it's a retirement community".
The 11 o'clock lead-in takes on a nasty vibe:
DOG TO BE EUTHANIZED, GRANDPA TO ASYLUM
Maybe it's time for Ginger and me to take it on the lamb. Hide out in Switzerland with Polanski until things blow over. This would mean of course that I will miss those mindless idiots on channel 7 news covering the week-long candlelight vigil at the school. Nor will I be subjected to news updates by grief counselors on the mental state of students, or by the animal psychiatrist treating the rabbit.
GRANDPA AND DOG ELUDE SOUTHLAND DRAGNET
It might be easier to mount a defense from abroad. How was it I went through 13 years of public school and never once met, or even heard of a kid, that was allergic to a dog, or God forbid, a peanut? What about the University of Georgia? They have had a Bulldog for a mascot for decades and a student enrollment of 34,536. How is it that the trauma centers in Atlanta are able to keep pace?
The Humane Society of the United States estimates that there are up to 6,000 tigers in private captivity nationwide. Some kid may be allergic to Ginger, but at least she doesn't consider him as a snack. Who's setting the priorities here anyway? Never mind making public where sexual offenders reside, I want to know where the damn tigers are.
I think I could make a strong case that unlike the kids in the pre-school, at least I know that Ginger has had all her shots. What about the damn rabbit? Tularemia (also know as rabbit fever) is a serious infectious disease that is highly virulent in humans and domestic rabbits. Or didn't this information make the curriculum cut when common core was introduced?
Better yet, I think I'll go on offense. I plan to show up Monday morning at the pre-school with Ginger in a dog-in-training harness, while I'll have a white cane and dark glasses. When asked, "What are you doing here?"
I'll say, "I do hope you are handicap accessible, the state of California can be a stickler about that".
Then just for fun I'll add, "I brought Amanda and Noah's lunches; today it's home-made, gluten-free bunny nuggets".