Dogs!

There I was pedaling away the pounds on my Elliptical Strider, almost watching a Biography Channel show on the Oklahoma City bombing - I say almost, because I pretty much knew the details and my mind was wandering - when a couple of dogs appeared amidst the rubble. Dogs, for some reason, grab my attention almost as fast as willowy brunettes. They are both near the top of my Fondness For list. The dogs on this occasion were leashed and sniffing about the bombing's debris trying to find survivors. After some early success, the show's narrator tells us, and as the hours dragged on with only dead bodies discovered, the dogs began to exhibit signs of depression and apathy. They were going about their task in what we would describe as a half-hearted manner. Seeing this, the dog's handlers coaxed several firemen to hide at the site so the dog's could find them...alive. When the dogs did so, they immediately perked up and went back to sniffing with renewed enthusiasm. This five minute segment of television so warmed my heart that I moved dogs past pizza and the red wine/dark chocolate combination on the aforementioned Fondness scale. Until, that is, this morning.

Not too long ago at Woowoo Charly's insistence we visited a new Ropa Americana store here in Boquete. "Dogs have to have toys" she told me, "and Bookworm Bonnie says they have a whole tub of stuffed ones here in the store."

"But," I protested, "they make such a mess when the dogs tear them open."

"So what" she countered, "it's not that big a deal to clean up and they have so much fun."

We took home six used and abandoned teddy bears of assorted sizes.

I opened the door to the yard and let the dogs out at 5:58 this morning. I mention the time to emphasize that it was not yet 6:00, an hour that one might more or less reasonably suggest as a time to rise. As 5:58 was lacking the necessary two minutes to actually be 6:00, I decided to go back to bed. On the way there I kicked a stuffed Teddy or two out of my way. Now if you have dogs you know that an inert toy does not get much of their attention. One on the move, though, is fair game. I was vaguely aware as I pulled the covers over my shoulders, that a scuffle of some kind was going on in the next room. No matter, I thought, and then sleep was upon me.

It's true what Woowoo Charly said about the eviscerated toys not making too big of a mess. The large clumps of white cottony stuff that most are filled with are easy to pick up. We learned this morning, alas, that not all stuffed toys are filled with that material. As I reemerged among the living at 6:30, I noticed small, nickle sized clumps of orange matter whose origin was clearly not of this earth. I had never seen anything like it before. Scattered on the floor throughout the house - I doubt that there was a six inch square area that didn't contain at least one piece - and on several pieces of furniture, the little chunks looked something like the debris left from a pumpkin explosion. I should say here that I was not amused, the cockles of my heart were not warmed, and my dog love was being severely tested.

Usually, for reasons I can't describe, I take some pride in being a madrugador, an early riser, the first one up. Not so today. I knew that Maria, our once a week limpiadora (cleaning lady) was due in two hours and I could not in good conscience leave this mess for her. So, of course, I mean what would you do?, I set about, piece by piece, picking and sweeping up the tiny, shredded, orange chunks of teddy bear insides.

The dogs, I probably don't need to mention, were no help at all.