The Taser's Edge

Prudence’s Long Lost Cousin?
February 21, 2009, 11:15 am
Filed under: Life | Tags: , ,


A Rather Intimate Affair

This morning, as I neared Duke’s east campus, some hair got in my mouth.  Wearing stupid mittens, but not nearly as stupid as the ones I would have to wear if I lost this pair, I couldn’t do much about the hair until I got off my bike.  Then I had to lock things up, and I was sitting on the bus by the time I could get to the hair situation.

I did that thing where you lightly grab your tongue between thumb and forefinger and then sweep across its surface.  And out came a hair.  But it wasn’t mine.  It was far too short and far too white to be mine.  It was Prudence’s.

Now to be clear, my lips have never touched that dog.  I am not a pet owner who likes to kiss his dog on the mouth or anywhere else, nor have I ever chosen to let her lick my face.  But Prudence is a dog who likes to leave her hair lying around, and I am a person who likes to leave his clothes lying around, and sometimes, as goes the saying, the twain shall meet.

And that, my friends, is the story I shall stick to.

My Brain: 1 Jillion, Me: 0
February 4, 2009, 10:52 pm
Filed under: Life | Tags: , , , , ,

Wednesdays are always crazy, between getting home from school and work at 5:35 or later and then leaving for our weekly small group at 6:30 or earlier.  And tonight, we were absolutely out of dog food.  Thus I found myself at Target at 9:20pm.  Unfortunately, I found myself without my wallet, and there was no way I was going home and coming back.  As I was pulling out of the parking lot, however, I stopped and remembered: we had $15 in dimes and quarters in a ziploc in the car!

My problems didn’t stop once I reached the pet care section.  Holly and I don’t buy organic dog food (or organic human food, for that matter), but we do buy nice stuff for Prudence–Nutro but not Nutro Natural, if you know what I mean.  Target sells only crap food, but stuff you’ve heard of–Iams, Purina, etc.  Strictly the kind that shows up with lead or melamine or something in it in those almost bi-monthly recalls.  And my brain got the better of me again.  I spent forever looking through it all.  Reading labels.  Trying to figure out which was for puppies and which for adults when it didn’t specify clearly enough.  Trying to remember the ideal percentages for fat vs. protein.  Wondering if it is all processed chicken by-products that I was supposed to avoid or if it was only a certain kind of processed chicken by-product.

Finally I selected a bag, totally unhappy by this point because it seemed to have a puppy’s picture on the front despite providing serving sizes for adult dogs on the side of the bag, but limited in how much I could afford by the size of my plastic baggy.  I counted out my quarters on an empty shelf nearby to see that I had enough before I got to the register, calculated on the way to the register that I would rather use up the dimes and that I had better remember not to spend that Susan B. Anthony because probably Holly had owned it since she was seven, apologized and explained to the woman behind the register about my cash situation (seemingly fitting in these recessive times), and brought my dog’s food home.

It was only when I walked through the door into the apartment that I realized that I wouldn’t have spent that much time looking for food for a human child.  So what if a kid has to eat hot dogs or frozen pizza for a couple meals in a row!  They’ll recover.  Holly and I do not raise Prudence as if we were her parents.  We don’t refer to each other as her Mommy or Daddy, and she is not our child.  We like her, but we are her owners and she is a dog, a pet, an animal, a beast without (as far as I know) an eternal soul, a 70+ pounder who is terrified of both chihuahuas and TV cabinet doors swinging open within 75 furlongs of her.  And as for her taste in food, you should see how fast she belts down an entirely undisguised heartworm pill on the first day of each month.

So I think she might just be okay with a different brand of dog food for a couple of days.  And as hard as it was to believe a half an hour ago, I think I might survive this ordeal, too.  Not to say that I find dog diarrhea to be very pleasant.