PATSY R. BRUMFIELD: At least the grandpup can't talk

By Patsy R. Brumfield/NEMS Daily Journal

Sinners, we all are. It’s just the degrees of sinning and the subject. We all know, and/or are, ex-smokers, ex-adulterers, ex-cussers, ex-cheese eaters. Belonging to that “ex” category quite often makes us experts and/or believers in our own goodness.
I myself belong to the ex-talkers-in-the-movies category.
OK, I am not completely cured. But, I do my best not to vocalize in the movie theater.
But when was it ever OK to talk while you’re sitting near the front row of a live concert? Answer: Never.
It was my supreme pleasure to check one off my bucket list Saturday night at the Itawamba Community College presentation of country music great George Jones, to promote the establishment of a fitting memorial to his twice-former wife Tammy Wynette at her Tremont birthplace.
Just as it began, and GJ started to warm up vocally, two 30-something young men next to me continued to chat.
And so, as I am wont to do in my old age, I peered around one young man and looked at both of them, with a most serious expression on my face – my forefinger crossing my shooshing lips for them to be quiet. They obliged, and I appreciated it.
Not an hour later, two stage-crew guys sat on my other side and began an animated conversation, interrupting one of my favorite Jones tunes, “If Whiskey Don’t Kill Me, Her Memory Will.” Even more annoyed at this late noise, I turned to my left and told the closest young man, “God will strike you dead if you two don’t hush.”
They, too, obliged or at least were sufficiently horrified at the possible consequences that silence prevailed. In Itawamba County, they are serious at the thought of being divinely smote.
In the end, I drove home happily humming “He Stopped Loving Her Today” and recalling the pleasure of the evening, despite my continued disdain for the antisocial behavior on my row.
Three days later, to my repeated horror, grandpup Bonnie showed a rare side and caused me to rethink her socialization.
Per our usual, we trotted into Doggie Day Care bright and early, and as we sat/stood in the lobby to await Bonnie’s guide to the play area, we both noticed a middle-aged woman standing to our far right. She sported very, very big, blond hair.
Bonnie took one look at her and began a low growl, then she began to bark – directly at the woman.
Oh, no, I thought. This is very embarrassing.
Quickly someone came and retrieved Miss B from the apparently shocking fashion experience.
Now, I’m wondering if Bonnie needs additional “work” on her behavior. Rarely, rarely does she ever bark except to encourage me to throw her favorite ball up the stairs to be retrieved with great gusto.
In the final analysis, though, she’s never been taught not to speak during a performance – movie or theater.
Surely, those humans have.
Patsy R. Brumfield writes a Thursday column. Contact her at

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