Mall Cop's Review

Diminutive 'Mall Cop', our Terrier, lay there simply wanting to chew the elk antler, the special one, the one they all wanted but he had found first, on the floor, within the chewing arena. ... This twenty pound dynamo looked at me wondering, if maybe, I wanted to chew, also. (He was polite that way. They all were, really.) I sat on the floor, nearby, offering protection, just in case, the 'others' came calling, hoping to relieve him of the top pick of the moment. He chewed with great delight, this familiar yummy bone, its aroma and texture, so pleasing to all of the visiting 'dognitaries'. (When Mall Cop is There, 9/2013)

As usual, our 8 month old, adult 'impersonator', 'Mr.Wiggles' was busy, nearby, pouncing, every which way, to the 'absurd'. (What song was he dancing to, this time, I wondered? I had shut off the stereo.) “Miss S', our 74 pound, 5 year old retriever, my sweet girl, seemed lost in thought, thinking that all of this was so preposterous. "Why aren't they all outside, banging into each other, so I can be alone?"  Oh how quickly we forget, my dear sweet Lab. ...Mall Cop's mini schnauzer sister was nearby chewing the other antler, the biggest one. She was always going after 'bigger fish'. It was her nature to test the limits of her tiny mandate, this 8 month old baby, 17 pound little cutie, with her four furry booties, all around. ....
Looking back on my sweet Lab's early years (1-3), I am reminded how truly lucky she is that she was not traded in for an older model of something. Her antics, then, were beyond our human abilities to understand. Her eyes were always fixated upon my reaction to her daily obsession: the constant digging and finding of rocks, large and small, to be held, in trust, between the upper and lower molars of her mouth. Funny how only a retriever could detect the undetectable. ... Scanning her play area, beforehand, did little to unearth these dog 'treasures' of distinction. “Oh. Please,” I thought back then,” “Give me the rock and we'll call it even.” 

The game we played seemed to involve outrunning one another. (The tree was always there, never moving for a moment!) “Please, give mommy that rock”, I would beg. She understood my concern but she was having too much fun simply running amok while making me crazy, I knew. ..(Today, she is quiet, patient, and kind and oh so wise!)

The day she found the big one was a day in infamy. She looked up at me, staring into the void-which was my mind! At that point, it was strictly primal. Which one of us would win this game of grab and run? How could I catch her before she hit the tree with the paper weight of rocks in her mouth? Would she destroy her internal chewing apparatus when she tripped or hit the tree? Oh My! Where had she found this current monstrous piece of dental horror? What had I missed? Where had it been hidden? I had been inside the house, looking at her through the glass doors when she caught my eye. She stood there motionless, glaring at me with that “I gotcha, now” look of satisfaction.

This current specimen was the 'rock of horrors', larger than ever imagined and one that could barely be contained inside her mouth. I cautiously walked outside, admiring her latest find. I stood there speechless, motionless, while contemplating my next move. "Oh my!" ...  She began to run at the speed of light or sound. I'm not sure which. (The fenced yard helped contain her whirlwind antics.) All I could do now was simply be patient and ignore her, hoping my disinterest in her momentary lapse of judgement would give way to her simply dropping this quaint piece of Mt. Vesuvius. ... 

I looked at her. She glowered at me. Her dental future and our bank balance were at stake. .. I offered her a trade. She thought for a moment, then relented. As I walked towards her, I grabbed this newest piece of rock face that had just fallen out of her sweet little mouth. I thanked her for her 'good girl' decision. We had both won this stalemate. She got the cookies. I got the paper weight. No teeth lost. No collision with the tree!. ... I breathed a sigh of relief. ..

Though our retriever's annoyance with the throng in her midst was understandable, her personal truth, a step back in time, was worse than those of her assembled contemporaries. Her indignation always seemed at odds with her history. Three year old Mall Cop did not do the things she had done-ever. His sister was a saint, in comparison. And our Mr. Wiggles, her baby brother, was just a happy little boy, trying to be friendly and agreeable to all he met. He was an infant, after all. Well, my dear girl, do you remember the red 6 foot curtain panel and what happened one dark and scary night? I do! ... To think you would be safe and sound for just an hour in your cage till we returned. Ha, ha the joke was on me. . Your 'babysitter' was too close to your 'target'. Let's play, you sweet thing.