The marriage conference that transformed us

Eager to improve our communication and keep the spark alive,

We diligently completed the personality self-assessment

At the conference on marriage, love, and laughter.

Tallying our own scores, we were divided into four very scientific personality types:

Lions, Beavers, Otters, and Golden Retrievers.

She, predictably, came up equal parts gung-ho lion and optimistic otter,

While I was dead split task-planning beaver and sensitive golden retriever.

The motivational speaker affirmed that opposites attract,

encouraging us to value our partner's strengths and remember

that no matter what we do, we will never be able to change their animal nature,

Only ourselves and our expectations of them.

We linked arms through the conference,

Exchanged jabs and knowing glances when his comments hit home

And left more in love than we've felt in a while.

Riding home together, side by side, lion-otter and beaver-dog,

We debriefed each other about what we'd learned.

While we were talking, she pulled a large stone and her lunch bag from under her seat,

placing the stone squarely on her chest.

"You know," I said, "I realize I'm not supposed to be critical,"

"but do you think it's safe to be cracking abalone shells like that while you drive?"

A disapproving growl issued from somewhere beneath her ribcage.

Her nimble, furry fingers paused, shell in hand.

"This is my car." she said, "I won't make a mess."

"But what do you think you're doing?"

I paused, mid-bite, removing my long incisors from her dashboard.

"That's not even real wood. I knew I should have gone with a different trim."

I agreed. That plastic trim had a terrible after-taste.

I nuzzled her in apology and gave her my paw.

"I hope your dew claw isn't what I feel snagging my sweater..."

I'm always doing that to her. Never on purpose. Drives her crazy.

"Never mind, it wasn't you. Just a piece of abalone shell.

Look at that - some meat still attached to it, too! Glass half-full!"

I thumped my flat tail in approval and stuck my head out the window,

Wet tongue flapping in the 80 mph air.

"I thought we were supposed to be improving our communication,"

she reminded me.

"In a minute," I told her. "I'm busy appreciating your driving."

She could have roared.

She could have bitten my head off.

Instead, she pawed lovingly at the scruff of my neck,

resisting the urge to remind me

not to shed on the upholstery.