The three odd purchases were unintentional gifts to her partner.  Tina teased Bette about her oversized acquisitions for several years, sometimes pulling them out from the far back of the very bottom of the lower cabinet in order to prove to guests the veracity of her tale. The jumper cables brought the biggest laughs since, although Bette knew they were for the car, she wasn’t quite sure what they did.

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Bette was making an effort to spend time with her new extended family.  In a corner of the room, Angelica and her cousins were playing their own form of soccer, using snouts (or noses) to propel a ball forward.  Tina and the other five female pack members were in deep conversation in a circle on the floor.

Bette carried a newspaper to her favorite spot on the couch.  She nodded to the patriarch curled on the other end of the sofa.  She settled into the cushions, which were much less comfortable since she had tucked water proof tarps over the surfaces of all furniture.  Considerately, she had placed throws over all of the plastic, but comfort had still been compromised. 

Bette opened her copy of the New York Times and was engrossed in an article about the migration of the focal point for new artists from the East Coast to the West Coast.  An odd sound disturbed her concentration and she finally looked to its source.

At the other end of the couch, the patriarch lay on his back, his rear legs splayed open as his head stretched to his genitals.  Bette’s concentration had been disrupted by the sound of lapping.

Bette stared open-mouthed, then reacted.  She rolled up the newspaper in her hands and whacked the wolf’s head.

“BAD WOLF!” she yelled.

He looked up immediately, his fangs displayed, but no one saw his reaction.  Instead, everyone’s attention turned to the loud voice from the other side of the room. 

"Bette!"  Tina shouted as she jumped to her feet and stomped to the couch.

"Bette, how could you!"  Tina glared.

"T, he was…"

"I don’t care what he was doing, he’s my father."

"T, you don’t understand.  I mean, he was…"

"My father, Bette."  Tina spoke slowly, biting off each word.  "You know, no matter how awful Melvin got, I never hit him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper."

Bette knew that Tina had a small point.  Even she thought that, sometimes, Melvin would have benefited from a whack with a rolled-up newspaper.  Bette also knew that it was safest to not react to Tina’s observation.  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the patriarch’s smug expression.

"Apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Apologize to my father."

"Shouldn’t he apologize for licking…"

"No one told him not to.  You, though, know better."

Bette looked at Tina and turned her head to her couch make, "I apologize for smacking you with a newspaper."

"Bette, he doesn’t understand English.  He needs a sign."

Bette was amazed that a sign would work.  She faced her father-in-law and her hands made the movements that meant "I’m sorry" in American Sign Language.

Tina rolled her eyes as she looked at the ceiling and shook her head from side to side.  She looked down at her partner, "Wolf sign."

Bette’s brow furrowed until she understood.  She wasn’t sure what she could substitute for her lack of a tail to put between her legs, but she tucked her hair behind her ears.  She then grabbed an ear with each of her hands and pushed each ear against her head and pulled backward.  She lowered her head she looked up at the gloating patriarch.

"Good Bette," Tina patted her partner on the head.