Tuesday, September 16, 2008 9:03 PM CDT
COLUMN: We hope the dog won't make us stay in the kitchen
By HARRY REYNOLDS, Editorial page editor
hreynolds@jg-tc.com
Our black labrador Maiszy — or Maizy (I forget which) — spent time in the big house.
She was about 4 months old when my son and went on a mission to the Coles County Animal Shelter to find a dog for Doris. J.L.’s dog, Tofu, had died a few months prior.
When J.L. moved to Charleston to attend Eastern Illinois University, Tofu remained with us. She had always been my wife’s dog –— It’s just that on son didn’t know it.
Tofu was a cross between a yellow labrador and a chow. J.L. got her when she was about 6 weeks ago and the size of a soda can. She eventually became a large dog with big teeth who never met a dog she didn’t want to fight, or a pizza delivery men she didn’t want to bite.
We never figured out why she hated pizza delivery men. Most dogs like pizza. Tofu also had an intense dislike for the guy who mows our yard, bearing her teeth, snarling, fur standing up on her neck.
He tried to make friends with her without success. He was even less popular than the garbage man.
Children, Tofu loved. When my grandson was barely able to walk, he would hug her. They would lay often on the floor, Lennon’s head resting on her side.
At the age of 4 months old, Lennon was on the couch. Tofu licked him from head to toe. Lennon didn’t mind, but his mother was mortified.
Several weeks later, Tofu did the same thing and Lennon let out a blood-curling scream. We figured he must have seen her teeth.
Tofu was the kind of dog a burglar or prowler would not like to meet. Maiszy, on the other hand, never met a person she didn’t want to befriend. If she were human, she would help a burglar bag the silverware.
Dogs — purebreeds and mongrels — come in all sizes, colors and dispositions. They’re all waiting for someone to rescue them.
Not all of them make it out. The animal shelter staff mourns the death of dogs not fortune enough to find a home. Human beings and dogs have a special attachment stretching back thousands of year.
If they could, they would keep every one of the animals until they found a home. Unfortunately, they are forced to put many of them to the sleep that has no dreams.
Dogs don’t know their future. We’re brought them so far into man’s civilization they cannot go back.
We spent more than an hour looking at the various dogs at the shelter. J.L. settled on Maiszy.
Maizy likes to sit on the front porch. She wants to sit in our laps. When she was small, it wasn’t so bad.
It’s not comfortable now that’s she weighs more than 70 pounds.
We have a long bench on the porch. Sometimes, we sit with her on the bench and Doris feeds her the double-cheeseburger we buy at McDonald’s.
We didn’t intend to start buying Maizy cheeseburgers, but we found it was the only way to get her into my truck. If you’ve seen my truck, you’d know why.
I suspect the Humane Association will be knocking on our door when it reaches the point where we are rolling Maiszy into the truck.
We restricted to the kitchen until recently. We have carpet. It’s hard to in the wake of an accident.
Maiszy has been working on us for a long time. We spend time with her in the kitchen, pet her, feed her treats. She’d do tricks.
Somewhere along the line Maizy decided she wasn’t going to stay in the kitchen. She could have easily jumped the little gate, but she didn’t.
She ruthlessly played on our emotions — whining, moaning, rumbling.
We held out as long as we could. Several days ago, Doris relented and opened the floodgate. Maiszy spent time sniffing everything she could. I suspect she knows more about the house than we do.
Maizy likes to go upstairs with me to my lair. I’ve packed it with a lot of books, TV, recliner, and a small refrigerator to keep beer in.
My laptop is at the ready on the small table by the recliner.
Maizy chewed everything when she was a pup. She remodeled the kitchen. In remembrance of those days, I keep the remotes in the den tucked away.
I’m careful to put my hearing aids in the their case. Now, I also put them into a drawer.
It’s not that Maiszy would eat them. It’s just that I think she would. There’s an urban legend about dogs and hearing aids.
The horror story involves a man taking his hearing aids out and putting them on the table beside his recliner.
When he wakes, he discovers to his chagrin his dog ate them.
A pair of hearing aids costs thousand of dollars. A dog — maybe, $300-$400 if he’s some kind of certified pedigrees.
What happened to the dog, well, that’s something no one wants to talk about. Let’s just say Fido is in dog hell.
As for the man, he had to mortgage his house to buy new hearing aids.
It’s an urban legend — I think.
Maiszy wants to climb into the recliner with me. I won’t let her. She sits by the chair and I pet her. She follows me into other rooms, sniffing all the way.
She’s Doris’ alarm clock. It’s a lot more pleasant for me. Trying to wake a sleeping wife is dangerous, but Maiszy draws a smile.
I’ve got the feeling Maizy is taking over the house.
I hope she doesn’t make us stay in the kitchen.
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Mama says wrote on Sep 17, 2008 3:43 AM:
and when I am done talking she tells whoever talking with BYE BYE NOW.
Maybe Maizy saying IT IS MMENS TURN BE IN KITCHEN,,,,,,hehe "