Mein Riebe

Dear reader, in case you didn't know, (and if you've ever been to our house there really isn't any possible way for you not to know) our dog Sophie is a little nuts. Her features are fixed in a permanent expression of desperation. And she gets pretty excited when people come to visit. She is especially fond of the Professor. This might have something to do with the fact that he feeds her... jury's still out on that one. It also has to do with the fact that the Professor puts aside his dignified professorial air and sometimes allows Sophie to lick his face clean off. Food and love, it's all a dog needs. It starts getting a little kinky when you factor in my relationship with Sophie. You see, Sophie and I have issues in that I am perfectly aware that she is in love with my man, and she is perfectly aware that I am aware of it. On occasion I've had to have some heart to heart conversations with her about inter-species reproduction. As uncomfortable as these conversations are for both of us, I consider them good practice for the inevitable "birds and bees" (speaking of inter-species, why is it called "birds and bees?") talks with our boys as they get older.

But I am not the only one in the house who resents Sophie's overriding affection for Tom. For the past week or so, Eli has been saying something we couldn't figure out. "Mein Riebe," he would say as he clung to Tom, apparently begging to be picked up. But we couldn't figure out the Riebe bit. Then we noticed that he would say it when Sophie does her little prancy-dance around Tom, begging for love or food. Tom finally put it together yesterday. "Mein Riebe!" was supposed to be "Mein Liebe!" or "my love!"

Let my story be a lesson to you all. You don't have to make the same mistakes I've made. I never considered the implications of bringing this pretty young thing into my home. I never knew that behind those lovely amber eyes was the heart of a home-wrecker. It's a good thing for me the Professor prefers a bipedal figure, and opposable thumbs.