Yesterday, I spoke of her in reference to fermented deerheads and reverence to chewed-up Bible verses. Today, I speak of her as the 79-pound lunker who got away-----from the fish pole but not the vets. Today, our Black Lab Ebbie is $184 more valuable.
I was fixing the screaming smoke alarm. Hitting it with the broom the night before had not discouraged its vocal cords one bit, so we had to turn off the breaker switch serving the alarm and the bathroom. Willie and I don't like taking baths or brushing our teeth in the dark, so I decided to approach the smoke alarm repair calmly yesterday morning.
Assembling a ladder, some screw drivers and the vacuum cleaner, I began the project. After learning I couldn't take the thing apart, I revved up the vacuum cleaner and used the hose to suck out whatever gremlins might be causing the stupid alarm to go into perpetual scream. Surprisingly, it worked. I flipped on the breaker and---silence!
Feeling triumphant, I headed out the door with the ladder and screw drivers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something gold on Ebbie's back. I set the ladder down and a subsequent closer inspection revealed a Mepps spinner firmly attached to her hide with about two feet of fish line streaming behind.
Hoping it was just stuck to her hair, I went into the house and got my glasses. My Wal Mart specials told me this wasn't gonna be easy. One barb was firmly entrenched beneath her skin. There was no way I was gonna get the pliers and pull it out. Besides, I'd seen her scooting across the lawn the previous day and knew "anal gland pinching time" was just around the corner.
I dialed the vets.
"Yes, bring her over," the receptionist told me.
"I'd might as well have her anal glands pinched while she's there," I added.
By the time, Ebbie and I walked out of the hospitial, she'd been yanked, pinched and poked nearly half a dozen different ways. Of course, they had to get the folder out and announce that all those vaccinations were overdue. Kachink! Kachink!
"And ya'd better treat for heartworms, " I was advised.
Kachink.
"I'm throwing in some antibiotic because I don't want that hook hole to get infected," he announced.
Kachink.
As I stood at the counter, with tapeworm medicine, heartworm medicine, antibiotic and checkbook ready and waiting, the receptionist announced it would be $183.58 today.
I paid in full. Ebbie and I headed home. She seemed appreciative.
I guess the bottom line is that I should be thrilled that she rolled over on that fish pole in the bunkhouse. And because of that incident, her anal glands are clean for another year and the worms will avoid her at all costs.
Speaking of costs, I'll just stop there.
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