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My wife and I and her dog, Abbey, live together at our home in Duncansville. Actually, to be clear, my wife and her dog allow me to live with them on a controlled basis. Abbey has her own couch in the family room from which she watches TV, unless she is sleeping. She also has a special swivel chair in front of the large window in the living room so she can keep an eye on the neighborhood at her leisure.
Abbey does not work or earn any money. I earn money to keep her in her present lifestyle consisting of food to eat, a warm, dry and air conditioned home in which to relax and free healthcare. Abbey does not live a true dog's life. I have often told my wife that we need to take Abbey for field trips on the weekends to view other dogs who are chained to a barn somewhere with no TV.
Every time I do that, she covers Abbey's ears so she doesn't hear.
Abbey is a good dog, basically; she never has gone to the bathroom in the house even as a puppy and she never has destroyed one item in the house or chewed on any furniture legs. However, she is a thief. Shoes and hankies are her main targets. Any shoe not locked in the closet will find itself tucked, undamaged, in her swivel chair. Hankies, on the other hand, are her favorite target. When sitting in my office or at the dinner table, Abbey is capable of sliding silently from behind and actually pulling the hankie out of my pants pocket undetected. She will do the same with any women's pocketbook that is placed on the floor for a moment when they enter our home. In goes her nose and out comes any hankie not tied down. Again, they will not be damaged in any way and will be found stuffed between the cushions in a couch somewhere, apparently for use at a later time.
Her only destructive nature reveals itself when she encounters a single sheet of paper or facial tissues. She grabs it and runs to the head of the curved entryway steps, where she tries to tear it into as many small pieces as possible. Normally, as I said, it is a single sheet of paper or facial tissue, but the other day she reached new heights.
My wife was heading out to do some shopping and I was heading out to a meeting shortly. My wife stopped in my office before leaving to tell me how much she loved me and to get some money from my wallet -- or maybe I got that backwards. In any case, a short time later as I prepared to leave for my meeting, I saw Abbey lying on top of the stairs with light green-tinted paper scattered in tiny pieces all around her. I picked up the pieces with an intent to put them in the trash when a piece with a large number 50 on the corner caught my eye. Abbey had just chewed up a $50 bill. My wife had either dropped it or she sat her pocketbook on the floor for an instant. In either case, Abbey had just made change for a $50.
When my wife returned, I told her what happened and that I took the pieces I found to the bank to see if they would replace the bill. I learned you need to have over one-half of the damaged currency for a replacement. "What are you going to do?" she asked. "The only thing I can do," I replied. "Wait until morning when Abbey 'deposits' the other half and see if the bank has a sense of humor."
John Kasun writes from his home in Duncansville, where sometimes the stories just write themselves.