Galloping horses couldn't have surprised us more. In one wooosh the canine had bounded across the room and ONTO THE KITCHEN TABLE. I screamed at this unprecedented strike against sane living. Lilah's jaw hung open. Even the pooch seemed a bit startled by her boldness, and she jumped back down, knocking over a glass on the way. I grabbed her round her upper chest and hauled her into her crate. It wasn't punishment, but a flailing for control. If not to subdue her, then to calm myself. Cheri's enthusiasm evidently knows no bounds. The trigger was her squeaky chick, a latex fascimile of a chick popping from an egg that cries for mercy as it is chewed. Examining it has led me to wonder who gets to design doggie chew toys. Now there's a job. The chick was $2.00 at Petco. But it squeaks louder than the expensive chew toys, and its squeak even changes pitch. Cheri has gnawed it, slobbered it and chased it around the house, but never before has it unleashed in her such a spirit of wild abandon as on that night. I should have checked for a full moon.
I know that if I look down right now, I'm likely to see a large slug sliming its way across our hardwood floor. They come in through the sliding glass door. I have never figured out how they do it without getting squashed, because staking out a slug portal to learn their ways is not something I'm keen on doing. We tried stuffing foil into the cracks of the sliding glass door, and that seemed to "foil" the slugs ---yuk yuk --- and keep em out. But Cheri just comes along and rips out the foil like she's doing us some big favor. One of the goals I set for myself each summer is to make sure that no matter how many times I run out to the driveway after dark in bare feet, to retrieve something from the car or put a bike away before it rains, I will never ever set foot on a slug. Well now my new goal is to make sure that no matter what, I will never have to watch Cheri eat a slug.