My father contacts me to let me know he is in the hospital. Something is going on with his heart; they are not sure what yet. After a lot of testing, and a lot of panic on my end, he is released with some new medication. He says they are not exactly sure what happened; he didn’t have a heart attack, though. 

Fast forward several months, and the topic comes up. I ask him if they have figured out what happened that day. 

“No,” he says. “Just that it was some kind of myocardial infarction.”

Cue my bio-nerdy stare of disbelief. That was the day I got to tell my engineer father that “myocardial infarction” is the technical term for a freaking heart attack!

My mom and I are watching a movie where some good-looking guy is crazy and is sniping off people in a tower while cackling. He gets up to use a bottle and pees in it madly with an insane grin.

Mom: “Ew… did he just pee in the bottle??”

Me: “Yeah.”

Mom: “Disgustang!“

Me: “That’s what disgusts you?!”

Mom: “Well, the shooting people part is gross, too. But [Actor] is cute so…” *trails off, mumbling*

I’m driving through a street with a large school that has a kindergarten, a primary school, and middle school. I’ve timed my passage unluckily as school is starting again.

There are several crossings and the smaller children are very good at using them. Not so the middle school children who cross on a whim, not caring if they are going straight or not, except for the beeline they are making to their friends. Due to this, I’m driving cautiously and just below the speed limit of thirty km/h, occasionally slowing down even more to avoid an impact. I would hate to be the cause for a parent hearing that his or her child is not coming home that day.

This is not to the liking of the driver in the next car, and he employs various tactics in order to get me to speed up, including flicking his lights and honking when I slow down for a crossing or for a pedestrian crossing. I only notice him flicking his lights because he is making a sideways maneuver in an attempt to overtake me; he is that close. So now, I need to have eyes in my back, as well, resigning to the fact that if I need to make a full stop, he is in all likelihood going to hit me.  

I make it through safely and at the traffic lights, he finally gets his chance to overtake me, giving me a one-finger salute and some other gestures and facial expressions expressing his rage.

The kicker? He had two primary school-aged children in the back seat.

For their sake, I hope they made it safely to their destination and that they meet drivers more considerate than their dad when using the crossings.

My siblings are having a massive pool party with their friends. I’m in the pool, too, just barely managing to stay out of the line of fire. They’re roughhousing, pushing each other in the pool, being rough with the dog, and throwing his toy in the pool so he’ll jump in, and my sister and her boyfriend are openly flirting. 

Mom: “Okay, I’m going inside. Keep an eye on things, [My Name]!”

Me: “Wait, you’re leaving me in charge?!”

Mom: “Yep.”

Me: “Teenagers scare me!”

Mom: “They scare me, too!”

After she left, one kid started running around the pool with a tomahawk, and my brother was chasing him with a hunting knife. Later, my mom admitted she was worried about the pool toys being destroyed. 

Cue My Chemical Romance’s “Teenagers”!

When my father was in his early twenties and living alone, he decided to get a rescue puppy for company. Being young and stubborn, he decided dog food was disgusting and the pup would eat the same thing he got for his meals, as a true friend should. He would leave a bowl of dog food out for her just until she got used to it.

It went okay in the first week, but Dad noticed the pup always left any bread he gave her uneaten. Since my dad absolutely loves bread, this seemed unacceptable to him. So, he decided he’d give the pup a piece of bread first at any meal, and only after she ate the bread would she get other food. 

So, whenever my dad sat on the table, he gave a piece of bread to the dog. Burger? Puppy got bread. Chicken? Puppy got bread. Well, it turns out this dog really hated bread and never ate any of it, so my dad — did I mention he’s stubborn? –- never gave her the actual human food he wanted to give and she asked for. The dog was eating dog food exclusively.

Eventually, the pup must have decided human food might smell delicious but it all tasted like the same bad stuff. And she never came begging again. She passed when I was about ten, at sixteen years old, and never ate human food at all. Even when I tried to pass her stuff from the table I didn’t want to eat, she’d just leave it there and I’d get in trouble. My mom always looked for stuff left on the floor and called the dog her co-parent.

So, this is how Kat the dog accidentally became the politest dog ever, and my whole family still laughs at Dad over it. And fortunately, when we got a new puppy in my teens, my dad agreed dog food was okay after all and never tried the same stunt again.