I went out to commune with the dog last night. Don’t laugh, that’s not the funny part of this blog. I try to hang out with her (the dog) just before I shower and change my clothes, that way I fulfill both the Islamic rules of Tahara (dogs is dirty beasties) as well as the social rules of dog ownership (dogs deserve belly rubs).
Anyway, I went out to commune with the dog last night and found her reclining happily in a pile of what appeared to be formerly-clean shirts. This would be funny except that they weren’t any clothes that I recognized. I was puzzled. First of all, where did the dog get two men’s dress shirts, and second- why would the dog choose to wear them both at the same time? The dog drooled happily in my direction as I stood scratching my head and trying to figure thing out.
At some point a raindrop hit me on the nose and I looked up to the second floor balcony where our upstairs tenants sometimes hang their laundry, and then beyond that to the cloudy night sky. I’m sorry to say that it took me a few minutes to come to the proper conclusion.
Obviously it was raining shirts.
I accepted the shirts as divinely bestowed and rescued them from the dog. As I walked back into the house and began down towards the basement, my father called out to me. “Beta, did those shirts fall into the driveway?”
“Yes,” I said excitedly, “Aren’t they nice!”
“The man upstairs said they fell there this morning and we weren’t home.”
I thought it was rather presumptuous of him to pretend like they were his shirts when they fell onto our dog, but since the shirts were too small for my father and too big for us, I let them go. I don’t know our new tenants very well yet, but I wasn’t expecting them to go around claiming other people’s shirts from heaven.