My sister went away for the weekend with her new crush and told me to keep an eye on her boys (17 and 15). When I let myself in on Saturday night, her hallway was full of small pools of blood. In the living room I found my cousins ​​and a Saint Bernard unknown to me. “Help us,” the eldest snorted, trying to put the dog on an old pair of underpants.

“Rosie’s on her period,” said the youngest. Rosie looked at me pleadingly as the underpants were pulled up even further.

The rest of the evening we immersed ourselves in heat. Rosie’s blood was dark, according to Google she was not yet optimally fertile, but she could still get pregnant.

“I don’t want her to get pregnant,” said the eldest desperately. “Then Mom will all be in trouble.”

Rosie turned out to be the new love’s dog.

“What’s that new courtship really like?” I asked, for I had not yet become acquainted with it.

“Great,” the boys said immediately.

“I’ve never seen Mom like this,” sighed the eldest. Ah. That’s why they were so protective of Rosie, who was now their stepsister. If you babysit there for a weekend and then deliver her pregnant, well, as a stepbrother you have some explaining to do.

“It can’t go out,” said the youngest. “We want Mom to finally relax.” The next morning we went for a walk with Rosie. At the park, an elderly man was just walking a German Pinscher. Rosie started pulling on the leash. The oldest cousin, now a concrete block of a guy who lives in the gym in his spare time, could barely stop her. The Pinscher rushed toward us.

“A male!” yelled the youngest.

“Stop your dog, ours is in heat!!!” roared the eldest at the elderly, who immediately started bumping after his dog, shouting “Bert! Here!” shouted, but Bert was in much better shape and had come dangerously close to our dog.

“Cut off now!!” cried the eldest, lifting Rosie up. There stood my tough cousin with a horny seventy-pound dog in his arms as Bert began to hit his leg. I was moved to the core. That’s true love, I thought. For someone to love their mother so much that he’s willing to be assaulted by a Pinscher while a Saint Bernard drools over his neck. What a dedication. The whole world that barks and growls at you and bleeds on you and that you undergo it all voluntarily, simply to maintain other people’s happiness.

Ellen Deckwitz writes an exchange column with Marcel van Roosmalen here.

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