Witness For the Prosecution: Meeting the In-Laws

There have been a very limited number of times that my family and my husband's family have hung out.  Not because they don't get along.  But they are polar opposites.  The first times happened when we had been dating long enough that we figured it was about time to meet each other's families.  I went to Denver first to meet his.  They had a beautiful home with an actual bidet.  His parents put me up in my own room, with its own bathroom.  There were even presents waiting for me.  It was unbelievable.  After a few days there, I took him home to meet my family.  I had been dreading that day my entire life.  But I figured if he met them, knew what he was getting into and still wanted to marry me, then he was the one.  It was autumn.  I remember this because when we pulled into our driveway, which is really a dirt path in the grass, and shut off the car, approximately 14 cats jumped on the hood for warmth.  In my heart of hearts I had been hoping that someone would think to get rid of the shopping cart in the yard, but it was still there, rusting away.  In the silence he turned to look at me.  I started to cry.  I don't remember a time when we had less than 10 cats.  I do remember having more than 30.

Me and some cats. 

"I gave you the secrets for getting in good with my family, what do I need to know to impress yours?"
"It doesn't take much to be better than anyone any of my siblings have brought home."
He hadn't run away yet, so I invited him in.  The front porch to my home is metal.  Through some miscalculations in construction, it is suspended one inch off the ground.  It makes an unbelievable amount of noise.  No one is breaking into that house.  Not that they would want to.  My dad opens the door before we do. 
"Have you seen Gandalf?"  I stare at him blankly, and wonder if he's lost his mind.  It is a weird question, even for him.
"The gwee.  You know the mangy yellow pock without a tail.  I have to give him his deworming medicine."  I cannot imagine what is going through J's mind right then, but he manages to point at his car.  And without any other greeting my father runs off to catch a cat.  We go inside.  Our house is pretty small.  All of my siblings, and two of my nephews are there crammed mostly into the tiny kitchen and living room.  One of my nephews, Slim, is the first to greet him.  He is tall, with a failure of a mustache on his upper lip.  He is wearing a cloak.
"Hi.  I'm Slim.  I like medieval stuff."
"I can see that."  For the most part, they behave themselves, and miraculously he married me anyway.
The other encounter that stands out in my mind happened some years later when my dad and Muscle Whip were visiting us in Denver.  Muscle Whip had bought a car on EBay in New York, flew out with my dad to get it and drive it home.  They stopped to see us on their way back.  My in-laws thoughtfully invited us to their superbowl party.  It is a good bet that that was the first time (and probably only time) my dad watched the superbowl.  We arrive a little early.  Muscle Whip (who isn't much of a talker) starts in on the snacks, while my dad starts chatting with my father-in-law. 
My father-in-law asks him which team he likes better.  I have to imagine my dad did not know how to respond to that and was trying to change the subject because the next words out of his mouth were: "So this morning I went for a walk by Weed's house and I tracked a momma coyote and her pups to their den."  His obvious glee at this discovery is difficult to conceal.  My father-in-law had no response for that.