My daughter once had a fat, farting, sullen Dalmatian named Annie who liked only two things in this world. The kid across the street named Greg and anything with wheels: riding mower, wagon, wheel barrow, cars…..We’d often look out and see Annie sitting on the seat of the riding mower. Continue reading
Annie
Annie’s Fish Hookectomy
We have a nice little wet-weather creek that runs along our property line, cutting through the middle of the wooded lot next door. My kids played in the creek and in the woods all the time. They were a few years older than Greg, our neighbor’s boy, so by the time he played there, he had Annie, our Dalmatian and other kids from the neighborhood with him. Sometimes, I think Greg was the only person Annie really liked.
Greg got in from school and made his way straight to the pantry, just like always. He filled up, chatted a while, and took Annie out to play. Before long, he and Annie were back. “How do you get a fish hook out of a dog’s mouth?”
I thought it was it was the lead in to a joke. “”I don’t know. How?”
“I don’t know. But I was crawfishing with a piece of bacon for bait on my line and somehow, Annie jumped and swallowed the hook, bacon, and all. I just can’t imagine how it happened!”
I could. Annie pranced right behind Greg, proud of the long string hanging from her mouth. Tentatively, I pulled it. It was stuck. Off to the vet. As you can see from the xray above, the fish hook was imbedded in her stomach. It had to be surgically removed, along with about five hundred dollars from my wallet. Annie moped around for three or four days, with nothing to do but brag about her surgery. Greg made himself scarce, not even checking on her.
The Case of the Mysterious Spotted Dog Murder
Our life with Annie, our surly, farting Dalmatian was complicated by her partner in crime, Greg, the ever-present kid from across the street. I use ever-present in the strictest sense. Greg’s mom worked nights. In a casual relationship never addressed by any of us, Greg made a beeline to our house as soon as he got home every day, hit the pantry for a snack, and let Annie out of prison. Greg was well known for investigating our premises, keeping himself abreast of what all that was going on at our house, while he dawdled about, picking things up, questioning, “What’s this? When did you get this?” We’d chat about his day. Afterwards, he and Annie would go off on a ramble, since we lived in a rural neighborhood with many large wooded areas. They were a common sight, known all over the neighborhood.
At any rate, one afternoon he and Annie stumbled on a construction site, just as a human skull was unearthed. Naturally, the ensuing hub bub was tremendous. With law enforcement and news crews arriving, Greg and Annie managed to be front and center, part of the big story. Greg was ecstatic, carrying the news all over the neighborhood, taking full credit for the entire situation. Anxious to milk the situation for all it was worth, Greg made a hasty trip back to our house to retrieve a gag item of my daughter’s, a dummy arm and hand intended to hang from the trunk of a vehicle, giving the impression of a body is in the trunk.
Returning to the wooded area near the site of all the excitement, Greg tossed the “arm” to Annie, initiating her favorite game of “keepaway.” Annie burst from the woods, arm in her mouth, ripping through the yellow crime scene tape. Greg was right behind her, yelling his head off. It was like a scene out of a Monty Python movie. Annie, no novice, at being chased by shouting strangers, headed home, dragging the incriminating arm. Winded, she scratched at the back door, still clinging to her prize. Shortly, she was followed by Greg and a bevy of law enforcement officers, asking to see the arm. She’d hidden in the bedroom, reluctant to part with such a desirable prize, but I brought it out for their examination. I was so glad not to be Greg’s parent that day.
Oh, the skull turned out to be that of a Native American who’d probably died more than one hundred years before.
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Not Quite the Proverbial Turd in the Punchbowl
Annie, our surly Dalmatian with gastrointestinal issues was not only a pooping housebreaker (see link below), she was a wedding crasher. We knew the Craig’s across the street were hosting a wedding, so made a point to give Annie had plenty of time to spend in our yard to conduct business before their guests started arriving at one-thirty in the afternoon. In the interest of being good neighbors, we’d even made a last minute inspection of their yard before the guests arrived, just to make sure she hadn’t left an unwelcome “wedding gift.”
Alerting the family to keep her incarcerated, the whole family was on alert. Annie was a lazy dog, normally content to sleep the afternoon away, snoring stertorously. Apparently, the party traffic was disturbing. She spent her afternoon whining at the back door, dancing with her legs crossed, claiming she had to pee. We took her out on her leash a time or two, but she came up dry while attempting to escape to the party across the street. All went well until a neighbor kid came bursting in our back door, releasing Annie just as the wedding party exited the house across the street. Bowels urgently loaded, she streaked over to join the fun. In all the excitement of tossing the bouquet, she escaped the crowd’s notice as she laid a prize-winning turd a few feet behind the gaggle of bridesmaids vying for the bouquet. One of the more top-heavy ones slipped in her offering, bringing the rest down like a bunch of bowling pins. Annie scored a perfect strike! I could have sworn I heard shouts of “Dog-S–T!” rising above that bevy of pastel Southern beauties. I guess their mama’s didn’t raise them right!
Coming up next: Annie is accused of murder. Human skull found in our neighborhood and Annie found with detached arm!
https://atomic-temporary-73629786.wpcomstaging.com/2015/01/21/pooping-with-brian/
Kathleen’s Cuthand Christmas (from Kathleen’s memoirs of the depression)
We don’t have the money.” I’d heard that so many times I knew not to ask for candy, bright rubber balls, or coloring books at Miss Lonie’s store. If Daddy had a few cents to spare, he’d fill three small brown paper bags with candy for us…..peppermint sticks, gumballs, bubble gum, lollipops. Kits and BB Bats were five for a penny. A few cents Continue reading
Nutsrok 