First, Then

First came Dooley, a little Yorkie/Dachsund mix I got when I was three. Her name was supposed to be Doodles, I'm told I pronounced that "Doo Doo." Soon it morphed into "Dooley," and that was good enough.

She was smart and lived many years. I've often said I'd like to have another mix like her again.

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Then came Danka, a female Miniature Schnauzer. She was smart and sweet.

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Then came Beau, her son. He was stupid and sweet.

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Then we had a cat named Scumhead. Man that cat got in some scraps. He'd come home beat to heck. I remember a hole in his shoulder big enough to hold a walnut. The vet shot it full of antibiotic cream. The cat never winced, and he recovered nicely. He'd eat whole shrimp, horn and all.

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First came my nice CRKT tactical folder from a couple of Father's Days past. Loved that knife, though it tended to lock up when open.

I lost it in January.

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Then came the nice Gerber folder that Ken got me. I left it at the movie theater Saturday. I hate that. No one turned it in.

I'd buy another just like it, except that I want one like Ken's new one

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First came Dad. He and Mom made it 10 years before splitting. Irreconcilable differences. "We grew apart," they both said.

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Then came Charlie. He had two sons, both older than me. One stayed distant while the other terrorized my sister and me. I'd bloody his nose if I saw him tomorrow.

Charlie tossed my mother around like a rag doll.

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Then came Gary. In my mind, he's the standard for alcoholism in my life. He'd drink a fifth of rum and not seem drunk at all. He was quite a brilliant man.

He gave my mother black eyes.

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Then came BJ. He drank beer non-stop, and for a while I did it with him. I took his side against her for a while.

He beat my mother. She finally got him out, but he nearly ripped the door off the trailer the night he cut the phone line. Six cop cars showed up.

I showed my displeasure in a very teenaged way. I still look for him in public places. I'd rather not be surprised.

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Then came Martin. Or was he before BJ? It's a bit hazy. Martin was a real weinerhead.

He was also a cross-dresser.

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Then came... Mike? Nice guy, with two younger sons who came to call my mother "Mom."

It didn't last. More irreconcilable differences.

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Then came... Danny. Dan? Jeez, that's already hazy. He got convicted for exposing himself to little girls. I believed Mom when she said he'd gotten a raw deal, that it was all a misunderstanding.

Then he did it to my grandmother.

And that was the end of that. I guess they're still married.