Grandpa

Have you ever noticed that things that seemed normal to you as a child, looking back as an adult were just out right odd? Get this...

Ok, so my family has a long history of being carpenters. I grew up with the smell of sawdust as a comfort scent because that meant that someone who I loved was near. At one particular shop that the family woodworking business was housed in when I was around 6 or 7 there was a dog, and it's name was Grandpa. Strange...not too much.
Grandpa was a large mut of sorts who lived in the hollow walls of the shop. Very rarely would Grandpa venture outside the little secret passage ways, at least not when all of the shop tools were going. So if you wanted to see Grandpa, you had to go into my Uncle Jay's office where on the back wall was a hole in the wood paneling. There hung a toilet seat with the word "Grandpa" crudely scribbled across the top with a red magic marker. The protocol to get Grandpa to appear was to literally stick your head into the toilet seat and call "Grandpa...Grandpa..." to echo throughout the walls of the offices until the sound of a heavy, labored shuffle could be heard to signify that Grandpa was indeed on the way to meet you. Now, looking back...this was a little weird.
One day, Grandpa surprised us all when a litter of puppies made their appearance at the shop. Grandpa was indeed a Mommy. And who was the father, a tiny, raggedy little mut dog who for some reason was named FeFe. And the puppies...we named all of them Zoro.
Yep, and we thought it was awesome.