Fido & Me — Glued In

“Today we’re going to do some weather stripping,” I said to Fido.

“Hey hey hey hey! I LOVE weather stripping,” he said. “It’s only just about my favorite thing in the whole wide world.”

Fido paused.

“What’s weather stripping?”

“It’s when you have an opening in a door or a window that you want to block. You see that small little sliver at the bottom of our door? I’m going to fix that, and I’m not going to buy a new door. I’m going to fetch some weather stripping from the hardware store, install it, and things will be hunky-dory for the winter. No drafts this year, no siree.”

“Can I help?”

“Sure, big boy, let’s go to the store.”

“No,” Fido said. “I want to really help. I’m a big, grownup, manly man, but I am sadly unable to do many manly man kinds of things, like they do on that TV show you keep switching off— the one about the big old house. I want to help with the actual stripping of the weather.”

“It’s a perfect Sunday thing to do,” said I. “We’ll buy the weather stripping, come home, turn on the baseball game, get a nice stew going on the stovetop and install the weather stripping.”

At the hardware store, we found a bewildering number of different kinds of weather stripping. For doors, windows, garages, you name it. It was a little bit like browsing in an Asian bookstore. No clue whatsoever. Fido and I rode home.

We tuned into the game, got a nice little pot of stew onto the stovetop, and then we were ready. Fido wagged his stump.

“Me me me me!” he yowled.

“Okay, you big red lug, it’s all yours. It can’t be that hard to do.”

He needed some help on the measuring, and he was not very adept at the Exacto knife, but soon, ol’ Fido was laying the weather stripping in, and it looked great. I opened and closed the door, saw that it held nicely, and returned to the baseball game and the stew.

After a nap (both of us), Fido made it known that he wished to go outside. He was unusually insistent.
“Okay!” I said.” Let’s go for a walk.”

The door would not open.

“Fido, the door isn’t opening. It’s like it’s glued …”

“Glued shut?” he said.

I pulled and pulled. Nothing. Fido wasn’t wagging his stump now so much as he was breathing hard, as in “Get me OUT of here! Gotta PEE!”

Eventually, I fetched a knife, slid it back and forth under the door and broke the seal on the weather stripping and walked out. We were free, free, free at last.

“Fido, I’m afraid you got that weather stripping in backwards!”

“It was fun while it lasted,” he said, in his manly-man kind of way. “How’s that stew coming along?”