This afternoon I was in my nook at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse with the fire going in the little firestove when Summer came out and plopped down beside me; and because she had been watching Ice Cold Killers & other murder shows on the Investigative Channel in the living room,  I told her to go ahead and turn the TV on out here. She said, “Good. Really Bad Men is on next. This little TV hadn’t been on in ages, but, hey, for a murder and violence marathon continuing over from New Year’s Day, why not?

So we worked out way through about three hours of gruesome crimes. At one point she left for a short bit during which a looooong commercial/solicitation for the SPCA came on. It was about Betty, a dog who was hit by a car and not taken to a vet and still tried to nurse her two pups as she lay dying. It covered officers finding Betty, taking her to the hospital, discovering she had a broken vertebra, as well as broken legs and was dehydrated. It went on and on and ended with a guy saying he hoped Betty made it. Then came the appeal for viewers’ support. At the end, Summer returned to find me almost a basket case and didn’t really understand why.

Then, further into our viewing pleasure – and believe me, after watching Betty’s story, murder was not bad –  the channel started to repeat it and I jumped up and said I was outta here. I came back to find Summer about in tears, watching through her fingers and then giving Shane big hugs. About this time the murder shows were winding down or we were getting tired of them and Summer’s mother came out and the two of them got me to watch What About Bob? out here. Three of us lined up on the sofa. I suggested maybe the BIG TV in the big room would be more comfortable for them but somehow that idea didn’t carry the day.

So, we put in the DVD and it starts playing in black and white with no sound. Summer and I looked at each other and thought maybe we didn’t remember the film starting that way and then going to color. After a while, we figured out it had never done that and something must be awry with the connection. I held Summer’s plate of popcorn chicken while she fiddled with the cords and absentmindedly threw Shane a piece which bounced off his head. The connection-fix became lengthy and Shane implored me for more bites and pretty soon it was half gone.

Finally, we got the movie going and Summer discovered her chicken had decreased and her mother had fallen asleep (probably medicine for a broken shoulder), but we kept on watching – a grandma, a Summer, Shane with his constant attempts to get us to throw a Wubba and a sleeping body. The latter didn’t bother us too much since we’d watched all the murder stuff; we just leaned her over the end of the sofa.

Now, at the very end of the movie, Summer let Shane out and pushed the door closed, her mother woke up and asked, “I slept through the whole movie?” and we eventually  headed into the kitchen. Then I thought, “SHANE!” and opened the door. He came in and Summer’s mother exclaimed about his cold fur. Summer apologized to him  and then stood up and I looked at her and said, “Betty.” It took her a moment and then she collapsed to her knees and  sprawled on the floor, moaning.

It was a Bambi moment.

Got to go. Shane wants out again.