For whatever reasons, I find myself on Xanax. I knew that I was over stressed, but when I checked up on the medical words, made them into English, I am taking Xanax, which I find a very, very frightening drug.

Of course I was alone when the *dog cop* came. He might have been a normal cop, I have no idea. But he certainly knew what was going on.

And he did know a lot about dogs. I would, during our conversation, stuff my foot all of the way down my throat.

His major concern seemed to be whether or not we had insurance for this. We do, but, I told him, even if we did not, this is our responsibility. I told him about that cold morning, the lock freezing, how dark it was, The Boy running out with only socks on. I said that I knew that what happened to that family is more than hideous, but we were also stunned, that morning. And they have two kids, it is the holiday season, how horrible.

He seemed to understand dogs, and so I said, it was Elvis. He is a Newf, this is not a Rottweiler. Guess what kind of dogs this man  has ? I really had to get that foot out of my mouth. But he understood. After a time. He was going to give us a ticket, a fine, but even he and the owners of the poor, wee victim, realize that this was a bad configuration of the stars. This was an accident.

That is all that there is to it.

I told him that I was afraid that Elvis would get * the shot*. He said, no, at the most, if it happened again, Elvis would have to wear a muzzle. This works for me.

And he understood me when I told him that Elvis has zero tolerance for lapdogs barking in his face. Does not excuse what has happened, it is one of those things one has to learn to deal with when you have the biggest dogs in town.

The Boy was very dissapointed ( someone send me a link to SpellCheck) with what I wrote yesterday. I could not capture his magic, how he smiles all of the time. Maybe I should let him write here, password protected, of course.

He is so stinkin’  happy. I am as well. There is a girl out there who loves my special little guy as much as I do.  I know this, my children tell me far too many things. Hopefully, she does not care for Jack Nicholson, for one of his SMS’s was right out of a Nicholson film. It worked. It sounded great. Should I password protect this ?

And, finally, after 2 years of nagging, he will let us redo his bedroom. He is living in the bedroom of an 8 year old. We hit the *Stnky Factor*, but now, he wants a new design.

Then The Girl spoke to me, in private, and asked me if this meant that The Girlfriend could spend the night here.

I was appalled. The rules that apply to The Girl also apply to The Boy. Why on earth would there be different rules ?

It was so much easier, so much cuter, when they were little.

And I had the cop here yesterday about Elvis….

Last Saturday, I was asked 5- count them 5- times about this place, different versions of the same thing, but, hey, I am not stupid, I caught on. And I realized  that this Kitchen is not just about me, after almost 10 years, it has become a depository ( someone send me a link to SpellCheck) of the cherubs, and glimpses of their lives. Well, what do you know.

The Boy has a Girlfriend, one that he sends SMS’s to all of the time and she sends them right back. Even during The Sopranos, he was on his little phone all evening. He is walking on air. It is stinkin’ wonderful. He is the Boyfriend you wanted to have when you were 15.

I know this, for the children tell me far more than I ever would have told my Mother.

She is coming here for dinner on Friday.  I am very pleased with my efforts to butterfly shrimp, but The Girl is rather weary of my …cooking lessons. So, we are going to have schnitzel ( I make a really good schnitzel. Really.), Broccoli  ( all of kids love the veg), glazed carrots, applesauce ( guh, baby food)  and some sort of familiar spud. Probably Rosti, clog those arteires up and I will need another skillet,  That is all that there is to it. I say this a lot.

The Girl was rather jealous about all of the attention that The Girlfriend is getting, and I told her, as I always have, The BoyFriend can come here every day for dinner, for I always make far too much. He is always welcome, I like him.

So, she called him up and he came for dinner, a dinner that I loathe ( one of those Knorr things that I make every so often for her). I did not eat it, but we all had a whale of a time, I have never seen The BoyFriend laugh so much. We all did. The Father was razzing The Boy about The Girlfriend. But we smacked that baby right down. He showed her photo.

I guess that The Boyfriend will come for dinner tomorrow- I always make far too much. We are having stoofvlees, sprouts and mushed potatoes. I am also sure that applesauce will appear somewhere.

Here is the meaning of love, in various dimensions: on Friday evening, we are going to let The Boy and The Girlfriend have *The Front Room*. Somehow, our Christmas tree will be up, he can make a fire in the fireplace and they can watch her very favorite soap opera ( GTST).

I have no idea where Daddy and I will be. I have no idea how we can get that tree up in time ( Yo! Boyfriend!), but isn’t it simply a lovely idea ?

I awoke at , oh, officially, 6.10 this morning. I knew that the Father had headed towards his couch at about 4am, he is now having troubles with his shoulder.

So, I mosey down into the kitchen and there are the dogs. I rather assumed that they had been there since 4am, for the only thing out of focus was the quilt on the couch. It was now on the floor.  They were jumping up and down and so I let them onto the porch, yes, get a drink of water.

Apparently, they spent the whole evening inside. Good, it is wicked cold here, and they were good boys. I worry the most about Destin, the Pyr, for he simply does not have the heavy coat that Elvis ( the newf) has.

It is pitch black outside. I let the dogs in and out, The Father leaves at about 7.30, it is still dark. The dogs are in and out.

At about 20 to 8, Destin wanted to go outside. Fine, get some water. 10 Minutes later, Elvis is huffing and panting next to me and I say, go outside, cool off, get a drink of water.

The Boy comes down at 8, I am walking back and forth in the kitchen, there is now light outside. And I can see that the gate to our yard is w.i.d.e. open. The gate to the porch is w.i.d.e. open and the dogs are gone.

The Dogs are gone ! I scream in my mild mannered way. The Boy ran out of the house without shoes, wearing only socks. He called me a few minutes later, he was coming home to get his bike. I got his gloves and the leashes ready for him.  He was very, very distraught. He put on some shoes and found the dogs.

If one puts one and one together, one knows that *the great escape* was Elvie’s idea. Destin was outside 10 minutes earlier and the dogs were found together. Elvis attacked a little yapper.  There is a police report now on Elvis. He did a lot of damage to this little dog. I feel horrible about this. The Boy, bright red face, tear stained, gave the people our number.

I have no idea how this will work out. If I were the police, I would give Elvis the shot. But it is the weather. It froze the lock on the gate, so that it would not close. And it was dark, I could not see that it was open. And Elvis, our doormat…

And then The Girl calls me : she had * an anxiety attack* on the bus to school. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. So, I am like saying, fine, come home. She is on some highway to nowhere. Ok, fine, Daddy cannot help you now, call Opa. The Boyfriend brought her home.

I solved The Girl’s problem, but I certainly do not look forward to the police coming here.  What can I say to them ? It was dark and I did not know that the lock had frozen ?

Jeepers creepers.