a good man

This is a story about a good man, but it starts with a storm.

One night last week we had a cracking storm in Melbourne, with rain so heavy it wakes you up, lightening so bright it illuminates your bedroom on a black night, and thunder so loud it makes you jump.

We also have a 4 month old puppy, and it was her first storm. As soon as the rain woke me I expected to hear her barking or howling, or whimpering at the very least, from the living room where she sleeps. At which point I would obviously drag myself out of bed like a good dog mum.

But she didn't make a noise, and while I lay there listening, Mr Pam did roll out of bed to check on her. And there he stayed for 2 hours, laying on the couch with her, waiting out the storm because she was frightened. Even though he had to get up in a few hours to start work.

And that got me thinking about what a good man Mr Pam is. It's not a revelation to me, but I did feel compelled to say it out loud. So here goes.

Dear Mr Pam,

Thank you for never getting man flu (even though I joke you do).

Thanks for listening to me as I went through the process of choosing a white paint, whilst you were slowly dying inside.

Big love for letting me buy an expensive dog even though you weren't finished spread sheeting it.

Thank you for always scrubbing the burnt bits off the saucepan when I get distracted while cooking, and for cleaning up the aftermath of this messy cook without complaint.

Also thanks for being my calm tech support guy when I'm freaking out (completely disproportionate to the problem) and for not being smug when the solution almost always ends up being "turn it off and on again".

Thanks for always leaping out of bed to put the bins out at 6am when we hear the trucks and realise we forgot. Again.

An even bigger thank you for the 4,736 coffees you've brought to me in bed, for taking care to butter my toast right to the edges (because you know that's the only way), and for spreading exactly the right amount of vegemite that makes us truly Australian.

Thanks for doing the hard yakka in the garden, leaving me free to do the fun gardening, even though I know you'd rather scrape your eyeballs with a rusty trowel.

Thank you for never ever shouting, for any reason, ever. Like, everrr.

I'm not remotely surprised you left our warm bed on a cold night to comfort our frightened dog.

xo

PS. Happy day-before-your birthday

The dog that prompted the thoughts in the first place.

Ok and a photo of Mr Pam, even though he might be horrified.