His wife returns tomorrow from her business trip. He will pick her up at the airport. He will tell her he doused himself with diesel fuel. He imagines her saying, “next time call the Crisis Hotline first when things get that bad.”

The anorak seemed relatively dry this morning, and relatively fluffy in a limp and lumpy way. He wore it iceskating. “What smells like a dog. It’s you! You smell like a dog! Your coat does!” the oldest daughter said.

“Oh, is that the coat you got diesel on yesterday?” The Friend asked.

Younger daughter, enter stage right. “What smells like a cat? You smell like a cat! You smell like M! Hahahahaha!” M being the naughty red cat that jumps up onto kitchen counters to lick cutting boards, and pisses on everything.

They skated for a while. Round and round. Nice day for it. Sunny. Cold. Then they had lunch. Then they, what? Cleaned house a bit due to tuberculosis scare. Then harp gig at church somewhere: drop harpist and instrument off, drive home, do a little housecleaning, return half hour later (it’s a 23 minute drive each way). They were great again, he thought, wiping a tear from his eye. “When are they finally finished,” asked the little one.

Priest invited them to stick around. Go to the pub across the street, he’d pay. But they, alas, had to rush to the next engagement, Xmas gulash party at the rowing club.

By now the anorak had been dried to a fluffy crisp in the drier and he wore it because it no longer smelled like dog or cat.

You know what a Rhodesian Ridgeback is? One of his favorite dogs, for sure. Beautiful, elegant animals. There were two of them there, all over his anorak from the second he arrived. Sniff sniff.

Sniff sniff.

Teen girls grab 3-CD sampler box of 80’s rock and quiz him, giving him names of songs and he has to give the artist. He gets nearly all the US/UK bands right, except for one he never listened to in the 80’s. He misses all the Euroshite bands.

Not a single punk or new wave number on the three album set, either.

The gulash was good too. Then they left. Bye, they said. Merry Christmas, some people said. Sniff sniff, said the Rhodesian Ridgebacks.