I'm going to the dogs and don't give a bark!

I know I'm preaching to the choir when I say that everybody loves their dog...buuut...I absolutely adore my Jack Russell Aggie and I don't care who knows it. This dog is extraordinary...even though she is a food slut. No matter how groady, smelly, putrid or gross it is, if it ain't nailed down she'll swallow it. So true to form Aggie consumed; god knows what; and just returned from the Doggy Hospital having survived a severe case of garbage gut. Now this is no laughing matter, not when it's a midnight emergency trip down "hell ride holler" with a dog that is projecting from both ends the most unrecognizable fowl-smelling stuff known to earth. Now that you've got the jest of my Labor Day adventure and I have ruined the thought of food to you for one year, I want to tell you that that was just the beginning. That night, they ex-rayed to make sure she hadn't swallowed a jack-hammer, hooked my little baby up to I. V.'s and locked her in a cage, and sent her mommy and daddy home without her. We left her in the place (a very nice Veterinary Hospital mind you) not alone, but as Aggie later screamed at me...with every damned cat in the state staring, meowing and taunting her. What I explained to her is that , after a considerable expenditure, we did pick her up just 3 days later in much better shape than when she was admitted. Nothing, mind you, I mean NOTHING will console that dog. That precious little love of my life has turned into a sulking, moping, vindictive bitch dog, devoid of any of the love she had shown me for two prior years and with a sense of cunning far better developed than when she just held her ball between her paws while lying on her back. But I stood the higher ground and pledged my love once again to her and proceeded to dispense the 2 small tablets that she must take twice a day. I cooked the boneless chicken breast, chopped finely and mixed with jasmine rice so the "little lovely" could eat small meals that would correct her internal problems. I pulled out the two tiny little bitty easily swallowed pills and held her sweet little face in my hand and started to pop them gently in her mouth when a vibration from the bowls of the earth ran up her body and this precious mouth started snapping at the speed of light with a Tasmanian devil exorcist sound shrewing out between each snap of those vampire teeth. "Sweet Mother of Pearl", my little angel, what had transposed her into this "Hound of the Baskervilles". Nonetheless, I HAD to get those pills down her! Plan A...
stick the little biddy pills right in the middle of the gourmet chicken meal, she hadn't eaten for 4 days and is starving, she'd never detect it. Sure enough, she dove into that food like it was pure
dog ambrosia...licked the bottom out and then with no hesitation, flipped the pills out the side of her mouth. Well, I'm mildly amused but desperately needing to crash and get this pill thing done. Plan B.. I try the disguise thing again, only this time in a tiny piece of bread coated with peanut butter. It would work...it was her favorite...she would suck that down. Think again oh wise human being....outsmarted once more by this precious thing who by now had a curious smile on her little face with a look of knowing she had won this battle. Well maybe so, my lovely,
but if I weren't so tired it would be "on sucka". To bed for a chance to rest this old body and a night of plotting and reassuring myself that I AM the higher species. Plan C emerges around 4:30AM. I was approaching it just a little backwards. It is all about body language and how you
execute the plan. So I would go about my pre-Aggie-illness normal morning routine, the one we were in when she was not jaded and was trusting. So I warmed it, bowled it, cooked mine and got my coffee and sat down at the kitchen table and commenced to eat while she watched. Acting (with my body language) very unassuming as she started begging for MY breakfast.... I casually leaned over with the pill-stuffed morsel and popped it in her little mouth which she immediately swallowed whole. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!!!! I had won! What a plan! Who's your Mama now? I had won...what had I won? What had I accomplished? What a freakin' piece of nano poop I am. Taking advantage of that little precious thing who by now had realized what she had swallowed and was desperately trying to bring it back up but couldn't. And those eyes...the sad eyes of an angel who had come to know her mommy for what she really is. A conniving ole biddy who had lied, once again, to the light of the world. And in the end... SHE had really won. She had managed to make me regret everything I had done and every word I had said and bad thought I had thought about her. She was victorious for my guilt as the higher species will plague me for weeks to come while every day she enjoys half my breakfast...half my coffee(which she loves) and anything else her little heart desires. and I will do whatever penance she chooses.
So come on over the mountain to Paint Bank to The Swinging Bridge Restaurant have a good guilt free meal and then walk across the street to The Depot Lodge to say Hey...I'll say Hey back at 'cha. You'll know me...I'm the tear-stained little woman with the shock collar around my neck, walking back and forth on the front porch with a hand held sign that reads..."DOGS RULE...MOMMY'S A FOOL" on the front and on the back it reads....
"HOW TO MAST WEALTH THRU INHERITANCE AND TAIL WAGGING"...GO TO
http://www.aggiesway .com