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April 11, 2006

The Secret Life of a Bee-Eating Dumbass

When we last checked in with my stupid little dog Murphy, she spent God knows how many hours being outsmarted by her collar. Sadly, things haven't improved much for Murphy since then. Don't feel sorry for her because this time, she's totally brought the misery on herself.

Yesterday afternoon Clara Jane and I joined Murphy, our Basset hound Chloe, and the neighbor's mutt Snoopy in the backyard. We played in the sandbox, but instead of tearing around the yard like a ninny and barking her head off like she normally does, Murphy was deeply concentrating on something in the clover. There she stood, staring at the ground with an intensity she usually reserves for staring at the wall, occasionally snarling her upper lip and lunging, always jerking back, startled.

I thought maybe I should investigate. I mean, Murphy needs some guidance and protection in this world, as she doesn't have the brain power to react to deterrants like pain, shame or self-preservation like a normal animal. However, I am highly deterred by two of those things. Shame, not so much. I'm specifically deterred by snakes, and the possibility that Murphy was doing battle with vipers. Sorry Murph, but if you opt to rumble with a 53-foot long suburban anaconcobrattlerasp, you're on your own. I'm not going to save your stupid ass from becoming a hound-shaped bump surrounded by snake belly.

The other dogs realized that Murphy was in Intense Hunting Dog Mode, so they came to investigate. They stared for a moment, then wandered away. That's good for the whole of us. Had it been a poisonous 283-foot garden snake, Chloe and Snoopy most certainly would have taken interest. They moved to bigger projects, like pulling the buds off the peach tree and doing wind sprints in the ditch they've dug by the fence. Murphy continued staring, nipping, and leaping backwards. I relaxed, confident that Murphy was simply engaging in a little battle with her own shadow.

Eventually, Clara Jane made her way towards Murphy, and the mothering instinct got the best of me. Just on the off chance that Murphy was waging war with something more dangerous than her own shadow, I intervened.

Murphy wasn't after her shadow. Nor was she after the too-tall clover or a stick. What had her mesmerized, what had her leaping her fat ass straight up and backwards was a bee. One of those huge, fuzzy yellow and black striped honeybees. We're talking about a John Belushi in a bee suit-sized bee, covered in slobber, writhing in the dirt where Murphy had pulled up the clover. The bee was down, but not out, and when Murphy, for the 639th time in fifteen minutes, put the bee in her mouth, the bee once again gave her a little jolt, sending Murphy rocketing into the air. And once again, as soon as her paws were on the ground, Murphy repeated the process.

I shooed her aside so I could stomp on the bee and put it out of its misery. Not even death could stop Murphy. Not even death! As soon as my foot was out of the way, the bee was back in her mouth. Luckily, Murphy has a fucked-up little mouth; her lower jaw's crooked and her overbite's so severe we could reasonably park our truck under it and protect it from hailstorms. Because of this, it's pretty easy to get stuff out of her mouth.

I grabbed an empty bucket and a stick, and flicked the little carcass into the bucket. Not even death and a bucket could stop Murphy. Not even death and a bucket! Once again, she scooped up the bee in her mouth, and I knocked it out.

I dumped the bee in a spot behind the shed when Murphy wasn't looking. And this stupid, stupid dog - the one who's sometimes too stupid to find her food dish when it's loaded with kibble three feet from her face - found the bee. At this point I said fuck it. Eat the bee. I don't care anymore. Clara Jane, Chloe and I went inside, leaving Murphy to die in the yard.

Actually, she didn't die. She's fine. I'm also guessing that she didn't learn a damn thing and will probably spend this afternoon looking for a hornet nest. Or a badger, perhaps.

Posted by Robin at April 11, 2006 02:10 PM

Comments

Posted by: Exena at April 11, 2006 03:36 PM

Posted by: Julie at April 11, 2006 03:56 PM

Posted by: Dixie at April 11, 2006 05:29 PM

Posted by: Nancy at April 12, 2006 09:32 AM

Posted by: allison at April 12, 2006 04:02 PM