By Jackie Papandrew June 6, 2007 Article Archives

Jackie Papandrew is an award-winning writer, syndicated humor columnist, coffee addict and mom to a motley crew of children and pets who provide a steady stream of column ideas and dirt. She's also wife to a very patient man who had no idea, years ago when he still had time to escape, what he was getting himself into. Visit her website at JackiePapandrew.com

The Dragon Lady -- Part Two

Some dogs will eat anything. This is a leftover instinct from their wolf ancestors who lived outdoors where everything is at least somewhat edible. 

 Some dogs, having made a successful transition from wild wolf to the luxurious indoor life of the modern mutt, are content eating kibble and stealing the occasional hamburger off the plates of careless humans. Others, like my dog Ebony, never acquired any canine common sense, and they continue to eat anything that will fit in their mouths. Our orally-fixated animal has consumed a whole houseful of excruciatingly non-edible items like shoes, socks, dishtowels, toys, even a pair of satin boxer shorts. She loves to chow down on paper in all its forms, including used Kleenex, paper towels, even, once, an unpaid bill. At least twice, she’s actually eaten homework assignments, although I don’t think my kids’ teachers believed that classic excuse. 

 Most of the things our living liposuction machine has sucked up have emerged from the other end relatively unscathed, if darker in color. But occasionally, we have to make a trip to the veterinarian. The vet’s eyes always gleam when he sees us. We’ve probably funded a couple of nice family vacations for him. Fortunately, Ebony seems to have a cast-iron stomach, and no surgery has been required. 

 One morning, though, she was uncharacteristically slow getting out of her bed. When I went to check on her, I was hit by a foul odor and noticed that she appeared to have two tails, one that was wanly trying to wave and another, smelly brown one  protruding from her business end. She’d apparently gotten hold of a small rope left behind by contractors working in our back yard, and part of it had made its way out, covered by copious amounts of the stuff one would expect to find in the business end of any animal.

 Knowing a rope wrapped around her innards could be very harmful, I immediately made yet another visit to the vet. 

 Sitting in the waiting room, worried that this raucous hound’s luck had finally run out, I looked out the window and saw my least favorite neighbor on her way in with her dog. This was the woman I’d uncharitably dubbed The Dragon Lady because she meddled in everyone else’s business, the one Ebony had once frightened into launching her Dachshund into the air in his harness in order to avoid what she thought was an attack.

 Of all the pet joints in all the towns in all the world, I thought to myself, she walks into this one. 

 The poor woman froze when she saw us. Her dog growled at Ebony. And when Eb didn’t even raise her head off the floor to respond, I got scared. I made a feeble attempt to explain the situation, hearing my voice shake a little. Then we were summoned into an exam room.

 We were there for a long time. The vet grimly described the dangers. Eventually, I was told to go home to await the outcome. Shortly thereafter, there was a knock on my door, and I opened it to find my not-so-nasty neighbor standing there with a doggie care package for Ebony.

 Turns out, The Dragon Lady really isn’t one. A busybody, maybe, but one with a heart of gold. I thanked her and said I’d let her know what happened to Eb. I also apologized again for the airborne incident.

 Ebony came out fine, thanks to an effective enema and a skilled (and well-paid) veterinarian. Despite my best efforts and some help from a professional trainer, our dog continues to sometimes eat what she shouldn’t, and occasionally she still bolts out the door to run rampant. We’ll keep working on that.

 The former Dragon Lady and I have become, if not best friends, at least no longer enemies. The other day, I actually confessed my nickname for her. Surprisingly, she took it very well, even thought it was funny. Maybe it’s me who’s the real Dragon Lady.

 She still points out all of my failings – in fact, she leaves me notes about them, humorously signed “TDL.”  She still thinks my pet is a holy, if harmless, terror. She still doesn’t walk past my house with what I call her wiener dog.

 But we wave to each other in passing. I’ve learned not to judge her so harshly. Hopefully, she’ll do the same for me.

 © Jackie Papandrew 2007