Log In | Register
(As told to me by Dalton Davenport)
After another day of single-handedly protecting the house, it ended up as any other normal evening. Chance and Scrappy-Doo had spent the entire day racing around the yards and rough housing, shirking their duties and leaving the heavy lifting to me.
I will admit to being a “mama’s boy,” but I actually don’t mind the fact that cousin Scrappy has come to live with us and that I now have to share my mom. Sort of…
That crazy Chance – all she wants to do is play, and to get me motivated, she bites my legs. She’s relentless, she’s driven, she’s hyper, she’s …..well, she’s nuts! I need my legs to run down all the “nosee’ums” that skulk with impunity all around MY yards.
Scrappy doesn’t go for the legs. He’s a neck man. It makes me feel like playing, for a big change. Yeah, it’s fun!
Mom arrived home from her long day at work and immediately prepared our dinner. We all ate with gusto, except for Chance who, for reasons I just don’t understand, picked lightly at hers. She’s nine years old now, for Chihuahua’s sake, she doesn’t need to watch her weight! I'll admit, she's got a great shape, but those ears… We all know that no dog of unquestionable lineage is going to pay her any attention, not with those ears. But I digress.
Anyway, Mom always indulges one more high energy wrestling match in the living room, followed by my nightly snuggle in her lap. Then, it’s off to bed for us while she watches her TV. It was that snuggle that set into motion the following chain reaction. Scrappy just wouldn’t leave me be. I really look forward to that time in mom’s lap, and he kept it up and kept it up. Finally, that last nip at my jowl just set me off!
True to Chance’s erratic behavior, she joined in with a stupid toy in her mouth. I mean, come’on – rough housing with a stuffie in your mouth. Holy hound dogs, who does that! Well, one thing led to another, and pretty soon the match was on.
I don’t remember the chain of events very clearly, but I do remember challenging Scrappy to a game of, “Whose got the biggest mouth.” We’re actually pretty evenly matched, and we often throw out challenges to each other.
“I can fit 3 rats in my mouth at one time!” I barked. “Oh yeah,” Scrappy snipped, “well, I can fit 4, so there!”
“Well, I can fit 3 rats and a gopher in my mouth, how about that!” I snapped back. “I’ve done it, I have!”
“Oh Coonhounds,” he continued. “You think you’re all that and a box of biscuits. You’re only a Dalmatian, a lousy carriage hound! That’s all your kind has ever been good for, and Westminster won't....”
WHAT? My blood was boiling. Who did this little usurper think he was? With that, Chance ran for the back room sensing that this was one rough house match that was going to be taking a very different, very ugly turn.
I lunged at the little white interloper. He dodged left. I whipped around and came at him from the right. He hopped over me and initiated a lunge from the rear. Infuriating, he was everywhere! Only my deft agility allowed me to whip my head around and nip at his ear. He turned his head at the last minute and my bite came down on pure air. Dratted Dachshunds!
But then, the match took a turn in my favor. Or, at least I thought. I wrangled my body around to attack from another side. It was all happening so quickly, a total blur, in fast motion times ten! My thoughts drifted to the story of Little Black Sambo, and the part where the tiger ran around the palm tree so quickly, he turned into butter.
Mmmmm, butter.
That must have been my distraction because suddenly, I found I had hold of his nose. I kept chomping and chomping to get a better grip. I found his snout deep in my throat. I kept it up, absolutely oblivious as to what was happening. It was all instinct. Blind food obsessed instinct. All I could think of was butter, .....butter! Silky, slimy butter!
I was up on all fours, now, his entire head in my mouth. I was wolfing down huge, creamy wads of BUTTER! Sticks of butter, tubs of butter! Awwwhh, butter!
And that’s when it hit me. I was eating Scrappy! I was eating my new frolic friend! What was I doing? What was I thinking? (Oh yeah, butter….)
Had my fondness for food finally overcome me? Was I not in control of my obsessions? Was I actually eating my little Jindo cousin?….well, Jindo mix probably….definitely not of pure heritage, like me.
I woke with a start! I was hot, sweating, almost delirious. But I did notice that my throat was clear and my stomach relatively empty…..although I had this strange, unnatural craving for butter. Cool, slathery butter.
My noticed my heater was still going. And then it all came back to me - my strange dream of how I nearly ate my cousin, Scrappy-Doo. Feelings of guilt flooded over me. I slowly raised my head and sheepishly looked around.
Oh, whew! Mom was still on the couch watching TV, and Scrappy was over there, sleeping peacefully. I hope he never knows just how close he came to being 5 rats and a gopher. Slathered with rich, thick, creamy butter…
I love my cousin, Scrappy. We’re frolic friends, and cousins to the end. I laid my head back down, smiled at my heater, and drifted off, once again.
Butter….butter…..hmmm, peanut butter?
