I love my brother. Really. Even though he did say he never wanted to see me again in his lifetime after he left his lovely wife of 16 years and found out that I was still in touch with her, and had told her the address in Virginia where he was staying. How was I to know he was shacking up with his mistress? I never would have believed he'd have an affair. (Hey, don't get mad at me. I'm not the one who had the affair.) I had idolized this brother my whole life. My therapist said it was like losing a demi-god! (Boy, he'd like the sound of that.)
KJ and I do keep in touch. Like I said, lovely person. This is how I know they went through a court mediation this week to divide their property.
Here's where it gets weird.
Her asset sheet listed "two live dogs." On his: "One live dog and two dead dogs." Yes, you read that correctly. Two dead dogs. (I have a feeling there's going to be a lot of italic use in this post.)
Hence, he requested that he be given the opportunity to dig up the two (big) dogs that he'd buried in trash bags in their North Carolina yard more than 10 years ago. Keep in mind that one of them was buried there after he moved her from their other NC home, where she had died.
"I would have just had them cremated if I'd known how much traveling they would be doing," KJ wrote. I replied, "I'm just glad Mom and Dad are in hermetically sealed caskets."
Now, if you've read any of my other posts, I think you can glean that I am a pretty obsessive cat mom. And yes, I did have Barney cremated and I have his ashes in a box. But would I have dug him up if I'd buried him at my old place? I just can't imagine it. What is going to be in those bags after all these years? My friend Vic and I sickly want to witness the exhumation, or have KJ secretly record it -- but KJ has more class than that.
Sadly, KJ pointed out, my brother more easily discards live people than dead dogs.