Last week, I arrived home, arms laden with the first three VHS tapes of the BBC miniseries Pride and Prejudice. Bonnie and I have been on a Jane Austen kick as of late, much to Daniel's chagrin. I mean, I think Daniel is genuinely disappointed with us for being such girls. Mine and Bonnie's sincere love of Mr. Darcy pains him, I believe. And the look of disgust on his face when he arrived home last night to find us watching Sense and Sensibility ... it was priceless. I don't doubt that he's significantly more bothered by his wife's squeals of joy at these Jane Susten men than my own, but I'm pretty sure he generally loathes the both of us for it. At point during a viewing of the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice, Daniel exclaimed, "Ugh! I can like, feel your guys' ... mojo over there!" I think I laughed for a good two minutes at his choice of the word "mojo" for mine and Bonnie's attraction to Mr. Darcy. Nor do I blame him. Am I delighted by these movies and books? Thoroughly. However, at the same time, I am sighing at my own girlish predictability. Also, it's been making my style of writing and speech embarrassingly proper at times.
Anyway, to get on with the point ... I arrived home with these tapes, only to discover that Bonnie had plans to write that night. I said, "What are you doing tonight?" "Writing." "No, you're watching two and a half hours of Pride and Prejudice with me." After about five to 10 minutes of this, Bonnie conceded with, "Okay, I'll watch it with you ... if I can get a dog."
Now, what I didn't realize when I, without hesitation, said "Sure" to this deal was that Bonnie has been pestering Daniel for a good, long while now about getting a dog. To the point where she wore him down enough to get him to agree to it, on the condition I approved the move. Surely, Daniel was trusting that I would never agree to this. Their cats terrorize my bedroom door with their feces on a weekly, if not oftener, basis. Every once in a while, my bathroom mat is the target of choice. Very often, I feel that the gray cat, Peter Pan, is raping me with affection and I feel violated by it. Richard Parker, the orange cat, is just generally condescending to us all. So I am not surprised that he should have thought I would be his mainstay on the dog issue. But no one informed me that I was the deciding vote. Bonnie, the sneaky creature that she is, had not brought it up to me even once since Daniel agreed to these terms. It wasn't until she brought it up that night, in what I determined to be a jokey manner, that she'd asked for my approval. Daniel could not have forseen how easily I would cave at the promise of watching two and a half hours of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett go at it, in a prudish sort of way. But what was I thinking when I promised Bonnie she could have a dog? I'll tell you what. I was thinking, "Whatever, Daniel will never let her get a dog."
It's like Bonnie was playing us. It really is. So now we have a one-eyed dog named Bingley. Because, no, I didn't think Bonnie was serious when she asked me to promise she could get a dog. Nor did I think she thought I was serious in my reply. But once promised and once I realized, holy shit, Bonnie's really getting a dog, I quickly made peace with the matter. Because, hey, I gave my word and who would refuse the adoption of a one-eyed dog, for heaven's sake? It has one eye! One! Singular! Plus, he's really sweet. Plus, so is Bonnie. Hustler that she is.
I should note - I don't truly believe Bonnie meant to trick me, nor should you.
And now, I should like you to meet our Mr. Bingley: