March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb – Old Proverb
Just when I’m convinced my dog is a creature with the IQ of soap scum, fit only for barking, pooping and licking herself (and then attempting to lick everyone else), she proves me wrong. In fact, she manages to remind me that in the drag race that is her life, I’m merely part of the pit crew.
March has been a banner month for Ebony. To paraphrase the old saying, March came into Ebony’s life like a lion – a lion-colored dog, that is, named Lucky. This tawny-tinted dog lives next door to us. Lucky is definitely not a lady. Lucky is a male mutt, and like males of many species, his behavior is often inappropriate. Lucky likes to dig, relieve himself in inappropriate places and, again like males of many species, he attempts to mate with just about anything that stands still. Lucky doesn’t have a whole lot going on between his ears. To say that he has the IQ of soap scum would be to insult the relatively smart scum.
Ebony, like females of many species, apparently believes she can reform this feckless fellow. She goes out into the back yard every day and presses her face against the wooden fence that separates them. Then she will bark, growl, snarl and sometimes even howl at her man, trying her best to show him the error of his ways. But with a fence between them, Lucky feels free to ignore her.
Early this month, though, Ebony discovered a rotted board in the fence and figured out a way to push through. I wasn’t home at the time, and neither was Lucky’s human, so Eb had several uninterrupted hours of up-close-and-personal time in which to whip her canine companion into shape. When my neighbor returned, she found a scene in her back yard resembling a hotel after a rock band has stayed there. Patio furniture was knocked over, plants dug up and strewn about. Lucky was curled up dejectedly in a corner, looking like his good fortune had finally run out. Ebony, however, was strutting around triumphantly. She slept well that night, her tail slapping the floor as she wagged it in what was obviously a very happy dream.
About a week later, she scored again in what my kids are now calling The Salmon Caper. I’d purchased some salmon fillet, and my husband had grilled it to perfection. There it sat, still sizzling, in a dish on the kitchen counter. And then, like fools, we turned our backs for just a moment. Ebony, an experienced counter surfer, sprang into action, evidently grabbing the salmon and inhaling it without even moving the dish. I returned to the kitchen to find our dinner gone and the furry spawn of Satan licking her chops. She slept well again that night.
While coming in like a lion, March is said to go out like a lamb, and thanks to Ebony, that’s holding true for us quite literally. The lamb in question, a tasty slice of meat I’d been looking forward to eating all week, went out in the trash the other night after an encounter with our mutinous mongrel. As we sat down to eat dinner, we bowed our heads and closed our eyes to say a blessing over the meal. We normally put the dog outside during meals, but this time we forgot, and while giving thanks, I felt the prickly sensation of whiskers on my arm. I opened my eyes to behold Eb’s head over my lap and her long tongue taking a luscious slurp of the lamb on my plate.
My son, unconcerned about bowwow bacteria, offered to eat the polluted piece, but I pitched it and banished Ebony to the back yard before slicing another helping of lamb. Eb strolled out the door looking quite pleased with herself, and I can’t say that I blame her. Whether it’s lions or lambs, it’s pretty obvious who rules the roost around here
