It was Sunday night. I had spent the last two days (off and on) under Greggie's sink and had finally (I think) managed to get it working without any leaks (after replacing every single part but one). I came downstairs. When I entered the kitchen, Greggie humorously started singing "You will alwwways be my heeero" and gave me a hug for fixing his bathroom.
All of a sudden, Ray rushed down the stairs, right through my legs, out the dog door, and into the back yard, howling.
We both started laughing at Ray's extreme reaction to Gregg's rendition of Wind Beneath My Wings (although, truthfully, Gregg's singing does tend to make my ears bleed just a bit and just for the record he was absolutely appalled when he found out that he was singing Wind Beneath my Wings). I opened the back door and yelled "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad!"
Ray was at the fence, dancing back and forth, yelling. I was laughing. Gregg was laughing. I walked out into the back yard, "C'mon Ray, don't you like your dad's singing?" I asked.
I heard a thump. The guy next door was closing his shed door. Ray was at the fence yelling and yelling (the neighbors are new and Ray is not too sure about them). I had told the man to just talk to Ray to stop him from yelling at him.
"It's just me, Ray," he said helpfully. Ray's tail wagged a bit uncertainly, then he started yelling again.
Gregg came outside, too. "C'mon in Raylin," he said, " 'Top Shot' is on and we can watch it together. You can see all kinds of ways to kill a coon."
Ray snorted in disgust as the coward next door went into his house. He stood at the fence a minute more to make sure the guy wasn't coming back out, then, job done, came inside and headed for his bed.
Gregg and I laughed again. "I'm going to blog," I said. "Make sure that people know I listen to the Cure and the Clash and not Bette Midler," said Gregg.