Several years ago when Truett and I had Australian Shepherds, he decided to put in an invisible fence to the West of our yard. I know he chose to do this because friends of his had one, and Truett couldn't be 'outdone'.
The invisible fence was to run from the edge of the old garage, across the driveway, and over to the grape arbor.
One day Truett called me from the studio. "Merry, I need your help."
"Okay," I answered. "I'll be right there."
When I got to the studio, he had a shovel and wires in his hand, with sweat pouring down his face. "Here. I need you to help me," he said. "You take these and follow me to the back of the property."
"Alright," I said.
So I wrapped two dog collars, with cute little black batteries attached to them, around my hands. And then I took off to the garage/grape arbor.
Well, step one . . . all was good. Step two: all was good.
And then . . . step three and . . ZAAAPPPP!
My hair stood on end, my face contorted, and I screamed, "I hate you, Truett George! You knew I would get shocked." Then I threw the dog collars from here to kingdom come and stormed to the house.
Now, you tell me. Does this look like a remorseful husband?
I love you, Truett. Always did, even when you knew I was naive. But, I always will love you.
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