A Minor Investment, Carefully Considered

When my husband told me that he was going to “invest in the good dog brush,” I considered my answer carefully.  We sat companionably in the afternoon sunshine as our son napped, and we watched the dogs play and sniff around the palm tree perimeter, thick as it is with rats.  We had agreed the day before to stay in our tiny house after the impending birth of our second son, and, made a joint to-do list to combat what my father calls “renter’s demise.”  After two years, we had failed to replace 8 ceiling dome lightbulbs, at least one in every room of the house.  We were On-the-Same-Page, and many of you will agree that this is too pleasant a state of existence to disrupt over a dog brush.

So, restraining myself from blurting out that I thought that would be a waste of money, and with his too-careful choice of the word “invest” tweaking my dimples, I constructed my reply.

“I think you should,” I began, somewhat disingenuously.

“But, here is my concern, and you are going to hate to hear this from me: we are not in the habit of brushing the dog.  If you would agree to use the mitt we have, that works quite well, for a week or two, and then get fired up about brushing the dog, then I would feel that an investment in a better brush is warranted.”

I turned, looked him dead in the eye and led with my left jab, “The best brush in the world won’t help us if we don’t use it.  And, that is my fear—that we would not use it.”

As he frowned at my logic, I finished him with a powerful right hook, stolen as it was from his own guide to verbal boxing:

“Now, I hope to God that I’m wrong—Lord knows that I want that dog to be brushed,” big pause here as I cocked my head to the side, feigning the victim, “but I’ve got to play the devil’s advocate.”

True sportsman that he is, he mustered a graceful smile as he recognized his defeat.