As I pulled into the driveway, dad's cat, Samantha, came running out of the bushes trying to stay dry and followed me inside. Dad had the heat on high and it hit me like sticking my head in a furnace when I walked in the door. Samantha crashed on the floor in front of my father's gas heater in the den thoroughly enjoying the heat.
"That heat is like crack to kitties," I told my father,
It took a minute for him to realize what I was saying.
"Oh, like crack the drug," he replied laughing. "I'll have to remember that."
Dad had cooked pork chops and rice. One of my favorite dishes of his and there was plenty left over after he ate supper. He had a big care package for me all bagged up and ready to go.
"I hate to go so fast, but I want to eat these chops while they are still hot," I told my father. "So, I am going to head on."
My father told me he didn't blame me and hugged me goodbye.
"Enjoy your supper," he said as I shut the back door.
I drove like a teenager heading home. I would goose the throttle until the on-demand AWD would kick in and stop my front wheels from spinning on the wet pavement -- ever mindful of my mirrors and if there were any cops around.
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