Cohabitating can get hairy


I may have touched on this subject before but sometimes situations change and the information then bears repeating. And speaking of bears, Ol’ Dutch did not get a bear this year during the September season although a nice 6x5 elk decided he wanted to go home with me and filled two freezers in our RV.

But that's already old news to everyone but me as I will show you all the pictures long into the winter. I am proud of myself to have harvested one again this year.

This past week I have been recalling the days of old when Ol’ Dutch was a simple single bachelor fellow and how easy life seemed to be then. You may also recall your days pre-entangled with another and some of the things that changed so fast once you decided to share sheets with someone.

For women, the changes must be all good as men are a joy to be around and generally make life much better for the women in their lives. Dang, Trixie is rolling her eyes again. I really need to get her into a specialist for that but she claims that only a divorce attorney can solve that eye-rolling affliction. Imagine that? And all these years I have been seeing eye doctors when I could have been seeing Dewey, Cheatham and Howe.

But anyway, the one thing that men will notice when their Beloved moves in with them is that suddenly everything is covered in hair. When Trixie came to live with me at first I thought poor Cooper had contracted some dreaded disease and was losing hair like a balding man in college. But soon I began to really keep track and the length of the strands were certainly too long for Wonder Dog and I knew he was not showering so it had to be Trixie.

And this was not the first experience Ol’ Dutch had with locks scattered around like newspapers after the Sunday Denver Post was delivered. The ex-wife and our long-haired daughter were renowned for leaving golden locks in every conceivable place in the house. They could clog a sink faster than snacks disappearing at a weight watchers meeting.

Ol’ Dutch became an expert at unclogging sinks and drains in no time and even helped the neighbor a time or two when his own underlings let locks loose in the shower.

There are certain stages a person goes through with the appearing strands, the first being you point them out every time you find one albeit in the shower or chair or food. This is met with a weak excuse by the offender. This stage goes on for quite some time as you want them to know that it's really kind of gross to find one in the mashed potatoes.

The next stage is where you only really complain about them when you have nothing else to complain about. You know? Being a man. These comments are usually met with the hair loser just ignoring your yakking along with all other comments you may have as she has moved past trying to please you and has learned to tolerate you.

And then you get to the third, although not the last stage. This is where you don't even mention the hairs found and just pull them out of your throat with long slow tugs. Ol’ Dutch has gotten to the point where he really does not even notice a strand in the noodles and I think I realized some time ago it's either that or cook my own food. Hair is not so bad.

And I think the final stage would be if you lose a spouse and suddenly you actually miss the stray strands appearing in your food so lovingly prepared by your spouse.

I guess it's not so bad as far as sins of cohabitation go and I really do not mind coughing up a few hairballs every month like Garfield the cat on overdrive. It's the least I can do to maintain peace and quiet and for Miss Trixie putting up with my shenanigans.

Ol’ Dutch and Miss Trixie are celebrating five happy years together. It is kind of confusing numbers-wise as Trixie says we are working on our tenth year. I never was too good at math. We are headed to Texas for the Winter and our prayers are with you for a safe and blessed season ahead.

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is [email protected]
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