The Dog Who Ate Everything

They say every dog has his day; and now it's official. August 26^th is National Dog Day, a day to celebrate those wonderful, faithful, funny companions. It seems that everyone who has a dog has funny dog stories to tell; perhaps we should have a Funny Dog Story Day as well. Our family is no different; and many of the stories revolve around the incorrigible Shadow.

She was a charming, sweet little thing. A mixture of German Shepherd and Labrador, Shadow exhibited the best of both breeds. My sister and her family were immediately taken with her liquid brown eyes and her tumbling, bumbling, puppyish ways.

That was before she ate the shrubbery.

Before she consumed the Halloween pumpkin.

Did I mention her penchant for paper goods?

That's right, paper. As in paper towels, Kleenex, and toilet paper. I didn't believe it until one holiday dinner, when I felt her stealthily remove the paper napkin from my lap. Presumably, it was even more delicious, as I had wiped my hands on it after eating a turkey leg. I was horrified.

"Shadow's eating my napkin!" I was already rising from the table in hot pursuit.

My sister calmly continued eating. "Yes, she does like paper," she replied. My niece chimed in, "Yeah, and she'll sit beside you when you blow nose, too." I could have done without that tidbit of information.

Of course, most puppies go through a stage of gnawing and chewing things. Most of the time, with patience and training, they learn to leave things alone.

As she grew older, Shadow simply adopted more furtive means.

Any time the family went anywhere, Shadow immediately began a search for edible goods. After leaving one day, my sister returned after a few minutes to retrieve a forgotten item, and caught the dog in the act of devouring a piece of leftover beef that had been left on the counter. Shadow learned to bide her time a bit after that, to make sure the owners weren't coming back quite so soon. She was never nabbed again, although things still disappeared on a regular basis, including an entire bread bowl filled with dip.

The truly amazing thing is that she seldom got sick. When she did, of course, it was often a kaleidoscope of colors and contents, including foil candy wrappers and Easter egg dye.

My favorite story was the occasion of my parents' 50^th wedding anniversary. There were lots of guests, and noise, and hubbub, so no one noticed when the dog went missing for a period of time. Besides, everything was carefully put out of reach, including the cake, which was on a sideboard table in the dining room.

I went in to look at the cake. It was beautiful, although I wondered about the side of the cake being a different color from all of the rest. I took a closer look.

The icing had been carefully and delicately removed from the entire side of the cake.

Out of reach? Not really. Of course, they had forgotten to take into account a twelve-inch extension tongue.

Luckily, ours is a good natured family, and we accept each other's flaws. That includes Shadow, who's genial ways more than compensate for her thievery. Not only that; what better, more efficient way of cleaning up spills could be found? Try cleaning up a broken egg on the floor. It's like chasing mercury around, slipping and sliding everywhere. How on earth do you pick something like that up? No problem! Call the dog, and the floor will be shining in an instant. Vacuum under the sofa cushions? Not necessary; they are checked on an hourly basis by the furry housekeeper.

Shadow is now older and wiser. She seldom begs, and for the most part, leaves toys, remotes, and similar objects alone. But she doesn't fool me; I know that she follows me around, and sits by my chair, not out of love, but because I'm the one in the family voted 'Most Likely To Drop Something'.

Including my napkin.