The Frog and The Dog

To a kid, medical knowledge is quantified only by life experience. Couple limited knowledge with animal husbandry and you have a recipe for disaster.

Such was the case with my sister and I. Renee was 9 years old, I was 8. Oh, we did the usual kid things like burning ants with a magnifying glass and pulling the legs off of long legged spiders. More than a few worms lost their lives with our science experiments. It was rumored that you could cut a worm in half and it would grow into two worms. We didn't have much sucess in that regard.

One afternoon, my sister suggested that we check out Mr. Neimi's window wells for frogs. It had rained the night before--perfect conditions for Window Well Frog Hunting.

We found a great big toad in the first window well. Unfortunately for the toad, we mistook his sluggish demeanor for profound illness. We found a shoe box in the garage. We lined it with Kleenex and gently laid our "patient" in the center of the box. What to do, oh what to do?

It was agreed that the magical cure for any ailment was Vic's VapoRub.
Applied liberally to the chest, this toad could be cured by tomorrow. It wasn't easy sneaking the Vic's out of the house. We already had to distract my mother when we stole the Kleenex, and Renee and I found it best not to involve my mother in our ideas, at least not until they had succeeded. Renee was able to slip past detection and out of the house with the Vic's in the pocket of her shorts.

I proudly read the instructions. "Apply liberally to chest and under each nostril to relieve congestion". Easy enough. Who was going to apply the Vic's was cause for great debate, as everyone knows that handling a toad too much will result in warts growing on your hands. It was decided that Renee would spread it on the chest, and I would apply it under the nostrils of the toad.

After the application was complete, we revelled in the fact that we had just saved the life of one of God's creatures. Coincidently, it was at this point that our patient had taken a turn for the worse. He no longer hopped, or moved, or really breathed all that well. It was determined that maybe some rest would be best, and we wrapped him in a Kleenex, put the cover on the box and left him on the work bench of the garage, vowing to check on him after a bit.

It wasn't long before we had another medical crisis that needed our attention. After leaving the garage, we happened upon our dog Rags. He was in a terrible state. The night before, my mother had cooked a Porketta for supper. For those who aren't aware of this regional delicacy, it is pieces of pork tenderloin, heavily seasoned with fennel and other secret spices and tightly tied with string to hold all the pieces together. Rags was not above rummaging through the garbage looking for scraps to eat and he found the string, irresistably saturated with the juices of the pork tenderloin. He had eaten it late lastnight and well, was "passing" the string. The first few feet of string had exited his body. By our calculations, there were still a few more feet to go. What to do, oh what to do?

The first idea was to get the hedge clipper and cut the string off. We quickly realized this idea would not work. Rags had a tail and he was not willing to stand still while we pulled open the long blades of the clipper. And, neither one of us had any desire to touch the string. Too much room for error.

The second idea was fabulous. It was determined that Renee would make the dog run. Once he got to maximum speed, I would step on the string, causing the rest of it to exit his body. S-M-A-R-T.

Now, let me just say that I will never forget the sound old Rags made when I stepped on the string and he ran out of slack. It was an unholy sound. It was a sound that made our skin crawl. It was a sound that made my mother come out of the house. "What in the hell are you doing to that dog!" she screamed. And, unfortunately for us, my dad had just come home from work and found the toad in the shoebox in the garage. "What the hell is this!" he screamed, shaking the box at us.

Grounded again.

Rags was never quite the same after his surgery. And the garage smelled funny for quite some time after that as well. And for a time, two weeks actually, all God's creatures would be safe.