Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Teddy in the Pickle Jar

I'm hoping enough time has gone by that everyone has forgotten about my last childhood animal story. Probably not. But don't worry. This post should leave you with a smile.

Teddy was a dog my Grandma Meme found...or maybe he found her. I don't remember.  I don't even know how old I was at the time, but I'm going to guess between 7 and 8. I just remember that Teddy was a ball of fur and was blind in one eye. As dogs go, we had him longer than most other dogs all of my growing-up years. Remember, we lived in the country and most of the animals that were a part of our family were there because someone else had discarded them.

I think Teddy knew he had been rescued and maybe for the first time was really shown love. My grandmother had a way with lovin' things. I don't know how Teddy ended up at our house (if it was after my grandmother got sick with cancer) or before, but in my mind's eye, he was always a part of our family. When my father would get mad at him for doing something he shouldn't, he would call him "Theodore" in a very stern voice. Teddy knew he was in trouble! I remember one time when my father was messin' with my mother in the backyard and Teddy thought something serious was going on. My father decided to see what would happen if he pretended to be hurting her. I remember thinking Teddy was going to take my father out! He didn't like it, fun or not, one little bit.

So early one morning my sister and I were heading out the door to go to school. We had to walk down our driveway (which was very long) to wait for the bus. As we got closer to the bottom of the driveway, we saw Teddy over in the far front yard. Something was quite wrong. Somehow poor Teddy had found an empty pickle jar (it was white plastic and I'm guessing held a couple of gallons). While trying to sniff whatever was left in the bottom of the pickle jar, Teddy got his head stuck.

Now at first glance it was a pretty funny sight...a dog walking around, head completely encased in a big white pickle jar, running in circles and falling over. Except upon closer examination, we quickly realized the plastic jar was being sucked in and out. Teddy was suffocating!

Well, lo and behold, the school bus pulled-up just in the nick of time. We screamed for the bus driver to please come and help us get the pickle jar off poor Teddy's head.  I'm sure it was against all the school regulations so, as you might have guessed, the bus driver looked at us, mumbled something, closed the door, and drove away.

Panic set in. Poor Teddy was in big trouble and we couldn't budge the pickle jar. I think I stayed with Teddy while my sister ran back to the house to get my mother. I don't remember if she called my father at work for advice, but she came to Teddy with a huge serrated knife in her hand. The pickle jar was so tight around his neck that it was impossible to get the knife under the lip of the jar. So my mother punctured the end of the pickle jar with the knife. I just remember hearing this huge sucking sound as poor Teddy tried to gasp for air. My mother managed to cut the end off the pickle jar. And so, until my father got home later that night, Teddy walked around with a pickle jar on his head!

Who knows! Maybe this is how the modern-day "cone of shame" was developed.

I know! It was the bus driver...he probably holds the patent for the cone of shame! And all at poor Teddy's expense and utter humiliation!

See, that wasn't so bad now was it?

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