Combat Pay

Cowboy here. Sar is sleeping off the meds I shoved down her throat. I know what you're thinking - Neanderthal.

Had to be out of town for a few days. During that time the imp got one of those flu bugs that drain your energy - upset stomach, a bit of coughing and sneezing and a bit of fever. She was just getting the flu when I had to leave. Called our friend David to come over to check up on her and he decided to stay a few days. I think it was the freezer filled with food he likes that clinched the deal.

I might be a Neanderthal but David is a marine and doesn't take any gruff - except from Sar. Let me explain it like this:

Sar feeling 100% = a sweet loving woman with a high energy level and one that embraces the world.

Sar feeling slightly under the weather = a few sniffles, a little less energy, takeout for supper, and an ingestion of a lot of hot cocoa.

Sar feeling ill and knows it = super sensitive about her health, cuddles with her pups, ignores me, avoids me, and threatens dire consequences if touched, babied, pampered, or God forbid, medicated. (This does not deter me but that's another story.)

Sar ill and not honing up to it = a loaded AK47 in one hand and a live grenade in the other. She doesn't talk - she snarls. If her wishes are defied-- she sets the dogs on you and walks out of the room. Her dogs are big. Her dogs bite.

I figure the marine has seen combat. He can handle her.

I call every day to get the damage report. So far the marine has all his limbs but a growing number of bruises. He's cussing a lot. I tell him he's a brave man. He tells me Sar would behave if I'd let him spank her. I tell him I know my wife and having a death wish is not a good thing. If Sar doesn't do him in I will.

He's feeding her chicken noodle soup and Boston cream pie. I don't know if this will make her better but she's not complaining about it. She's making him bring the foster dogs into the house 1 at a time so she can spend time with them. He suspects they are eating the soup when he isn't looking.

I get home and can tell the imp has a fever. I don't ask. I don't argue. I tackle her, lock her arms between us, hook a leg around both of hers and shove coated aspirin down her throat along with an Rx she has for intestinal discomfort. She spits, hisses, and yells every ugly word she knows-- most of which are variations of camel dung and armpit spawn. Then she falls asleep.

Asleep, she looks like an angel.

I'll make linguini for her tonight - a little butter and cheese and some personal attention and she'll be back to mischief in no time. David says I should take her to task for beating him up when he was trying to nurse her. I tell the marine he deserves combat pay and is damned lucky to be alive with all his parts attached.

Cowboy