Thanksgiving this deficiency took on a new urgency for Eileen. Helen was still transitioning from the status of lodger to family member, still glued to her mistress, though she had made allowances for visits to the mailbox at the end of the driveway, so long as constant visual contact could be maintained by sitting vigil at the front door. Then that Thursday morning, the kitchen suffused with the smells of oven-roasted turkey and freshly baked apple pie, Helen scrambled out the back door and began sprinting across the open fields, heading for the freedom of the distant forest.
She was halfway there by the time Eileen realized she was gone, little legs pumping, barking her head off as though she had caught the whiff of a deer or a solitary coyote staring back from the dense undergrowth.
“Helen! Helen!” Eileen cried, chasing after her as the dog continued on her course, either choosing to ignore the woman closing in over her shoulder or, more likely, not hearing a thing.
The fugitive was caught right at the equivalent of what would have been the barbed-wire perimeter fence, if this had been a prison break, looking surprised and pleased to see that Eileen had joined her, as though a human presence lent credibility to her belief thatthere had been a threat lurking on the outskirts of the property, a threat Helen was not afraid to subdue.
The incident prompted Eileen to purchase a small silver bell to attach to Helen’s collar, its metallic tinkle offering the comfort of a poor man’s canine LoJack. If she ever tried to repeat her great escape, at least they would hear her making a break for it.
W ITH Christmas came an appreciation of the relationship developing between Helen and Didi. What had started out like a mating ritual between desert scorpions had matured into understanding, respect, even codependence. Didi seemed so cognizant of her own proportions around her Lilliputian sister, so endearingly clumsy in her attempts to be gentle and tender. Though this lovable giant of a dog was so physically immense, it wasn’t until Helen entered the picture that they realized something had been missing. Didi cherished and embraced her new companion so completely that Ben and Eileen came to believe a creature that took up enough space for three regular dogs had to have been lonely.
Come Christmas Day, the dogs wore matching red bows on their collars. Each dog had her own stocking hanging over the fireplace, with bones proportional to the size of the recipient—a carefully selected shank from the local butcher for Helen, something impossibly large for Didi that looked like it had been excavated by a paleontologist. Ironically, a mutually agreed-upon bone exchange took place early in the festivities, with Helen dwarfed by her enormous chew, dragging it through pine needles like an obstinate white log. Despite all her dental shortcomings, Helen happily whittled away at this project for weeks to come.
Early in the New Year Ben went through major periodontal surgery of his own, and the ensuing pain and difficulty eating opened up a whole new world of empathy for Helen’s daily plight.
“I can’t imagine what she’s endured for so long,” he said. “Here am I popping Percocet every couple of hours and it hurts drinking a glass of cold water. No wonder the poor dog is constantly rubbing at her muzzle. We really need to get her to a dentist.”
And that was all the prompting Eileen needed to pick up the phone and place a call to trusty Dr. J.
“I can set Helen up with a veterinary dentist, but with dogs it’s always a little more complicated than white knuckles and Novocain.”
“What do you mean?” said Eileen.
“I mean Helen’s an unknown commodity. I’m guessing she’s twelve, thirteen years old but that’s only a guess. Regardless, she needs some serious work on her mouth and that means general anesthesia. No dentist will want to touch her without blood work, chest X-rays, maybe even an ultrasound of her
She was halfway there by the time Eileen realized she was gone, little legs pumping, barking her head off as though she had caught the whiff of a deer or a solitary coyote staring back from the dense undergrowth.
“Helen! Helen!” Eileen cried, chasing after her as the dog continued on her course, either choosing to ignore the woman closing in over her shoulder or, more likely, not hearing a thing.
The fugitive was caught right at the equivalent of what would have been the barbed-wire perimeter fence, if this had been a prison break, looking surprised and pleased to see that Eileen had joined her, as though a human presence lent credibility to her belief thatthere had been a threat lurking on the outskirts of the property, a threat Helen was not afraid to subdue.
The incident prompted Eileen to purchase a small silver bell to attach to Helen’s collar, its metallic tinkle offering the comfort of a poor man’s canine LoJack. If she ever tried to repeat her great escape, at least they would hear her making a break for it.
W ITH Christmas came an appreciation of the relationship developing between Helen and Didi. What had started out like a mating ritual between desert scorpions had matured into understanding, respect, even codependence. Didi seemed so cognizant of her own proportions around her Lilliputian sister, so endearingly clumsy in her attempts to be gentle and tender. Though this lovable giant of a dog was so physically immense, it wasn’t until Helen entered the picture that they realized something had been missing. Didi cherished and embraced her new companion so completely that Ben and Eileen came to believe a creature that took up enough space for three regular dogs had to have been lonely.
Come Christmas Day, the dogs wore matching red bows on their collars. Each dog had her own stocking hanging over the fireplace, with bones proportional to the size of the recipient—a carefully selected shank from the local butcher for Helen, something impossibly large for Didi that looked like it had been excavated by a paleontologist. Ironically, a mutually agreed-upon bone exchange took place early in the festivities, with Helen dwarfed by her enormous chew, dragging it through pine needles like an obstinate white log. Despite all her dental shortcomings, Helen happily whittled away at this project for weeks to come.
Early in the New Year Ben went through major periodontal surgery of his own, and the ensuing pain and difficulty eating opened up a whole new world of empathy for Helen’s daily plight.
“I can’t imagine what she’s endured for so long,” he said. “Here am I popping Percocet every couple of hours and it hurts drinking a glass of cold water. No wonder the poor dog is constantly rubbing at her muzzle. We really need to get her to a dentist.”
And that was all the prompting Eileen needed to pick up the phone and place a call to trusty Dr. J.
“I can set Helen up with a veterinary dentist, but with dogs it’s always a little more complicated than white knuckles and Novocain.”
“What do you mean?” said Eileen.
“I mean Helen’s an unknown commodity. I’m guessing she’s twelve, thirteen years old but that’s only a guess. Regardless, she needs some serious work on her mouth and that means general anesthesia. No dentist will want to touch her without blood work, chest X-rays, maybe even an ultrasound of her
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