Ebby the Wonder Dog

Have you met my dog Ebby yet? I don’t think so. She’s an elderly little grey something-or-other we inherited a couple of years back when my mother-in-law couldn’t take care of her any more. She’s warty and arthritic with a chronic bad back, and she’s adorned with a huge (non cancerous) fatty tumor which gives her the general shape of a parsnip. We like her a lot.

Ebby the Wonder Dog

Ebby the Wonder Dog

Ebby is what the dog experts call “food motivated.” (In layman’s terms this means that she’s a little hog.) At dinner time she plants herself under the table, alertly pouncing on any food molecule which falls from our forks. She does the same in front of the stove, inevitably getting under the feet of whoever is cooking.

“Dammit Ebby! ” the cry goes out, as we trip over her for the thousandth time, “would you watch it! I almost broke my neck!” Ebby amiably stumps away a few feet, then sneaks back the second we take our eyes off of her. If no food is immediately forthcoming then Ebby wanders off to go prospecting in the kitty litter box. It’s all part of the great cycle of nature.

When we take her outside, Ebby likes to roll around in the grass, all four feet flailing wildly in the air, preferably in a fresh pile of chicken poop if available. She is totally insanely fearless and will take on a dog three times her size over a single kibble, which − given that she’s ancient, arthritic, and has a bad back − is quite terrifying to watch. (Did I mention the heart murmur?) Ebby also loves to swim, unlike our other sissy dogs.

Ebby is on a couple of pain pills for her back problems and arthritis. She’s great about pills, as long as you roll ’em in some kind of food product, but recently we’ve had to increase the dose. Sooner or later they’ll stop working or crap out her kidneys, and we’ll have to Decide What To Do With Ebby.

When that happens, we plan to bury her in the rock garden. It’s cool, and pleasant and chickens congregate there, eating bugs and pooping. We think that’s how Ebby would want it.

Hammer Watch

I find myself in the unusual position of having to admit a certain grudging admiration for Tom Delay. Despite having TWO stress-fractured feet, he continues to shake his groove thang on Dancing With the Stars. He’s still quite terrible and I wish he’d go away, but his determination is pretty impressive in a creepy sort of fashion.


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