A Wretched Truth

Husband gets a lot of heat on this blog, so I figure I'd throw him a metaphorical bone. Although it's all in hypotheticals, of course.

Maybe I'm in Denver for Christmas.

It's possible I drove 5.5 hours to Atlanta at 6 am to fly out, instead of the closest airport in my city so, if I were to take the dog (who does that anyway?!) then his flight would be only 3 hours.

Speaking of dogs, there's a chance I brought Ryker with me.

It's plausible to assume I was a little anxious about flying the dog with me. If, in fact, I did pay $200 one way to fly him, and will have to pay $200 again to fly him back.

Perhaps I had a few tears appear in the corner of my eyes as I left him with the very kind Delta representatives. Hypothetically, it could have looked more like a monsoon as it down my red, splotchy face. Or a deluge. Then again, perhaps not.

If this did occur, then it would also be believable that I asked no less than five different Delta representatives to ensure that Ryker was actually put on my plane. Including the obvious questions, "Will he be cold? Is it dark? When is he put in?" As if I hadn't done five hours of research...

In the unlikely event that I would have talked to all of those people, it would have been because of my innate goodness trying to prevent a hideous, dangerous scene in Denver when they inform me that my dog was in Milwaukee on accident.

Maybe I let Ryker out of the cage as soon as I saw him without regard to the fact that we were in the middle of baggage claim. Nor would I have cared if he was so excited to see me he spritzed all over the carpet. Maybe he did that. And if he did, maybe I didn't care.

And then that creates the potential, in such an unlikely situation, for him riding on aunt Sarah and my laps the entire ride home.

Potential only.

Possibilities only.

You get the pathetic idea.