Toby the Puppy continues to astonish my wife and me.
Just about the time we think we have devised a way to communicate with each other without getting him all wound up/excited/delighted, he surprises us by hearing certain words we thought were innocuous enough for him to ignore.
Take the personal pronouns “him” or “he.” He knows that when he hears those words, the next thing to come out of our mouths involves Toby the Puppy.
I am now considering whether my wife and I need to start passing notes if we have to communicate messages that we don’t necessarily want Toby the hear.
All this reminds me a bit of when my sisters and I were growing up. Our parents were bilingual. They spoke English, obviously. They also were fluent in Greek. They would speak Greek to each other when they didn’t want my sisters and I to hear what they were discussing.
It made me so mad I coulda spit. Mom and Dad didn’t act smug when they put something over on us, however they surely must’ve felt like they were successful in keeping secrets from us. But … whatever.
My wife and I are not bilingual. We are limited to speaking to each other in plain English. Toby doesn’t speak the language, but he damn sure understands it.
I might need to keep a pen and a pocket tablet handy at all times.