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?

Prince, Dead and Resurrected

Obviously this isn't Prince

I am going against my better judgment posting this story first, but since you asked for it (Bethany and Julie), here ya go! Teri, we'll get to Jones and the Radial Arm Saw soon.

Let me set the stage and always keep this in the back of your mind while reading this story. OK? OK.

1. This took place when I was a little girl, almost 40 years ago.

2. I grew-up in the country.

3. It was the dead of winter and there was lots of snow on the ground.

I had a horse named Midnight. You might remember me talking about my very first job delivering newspapers so I could buy the food necessary to have a horse of my own.

I don't really remember how this came about (you will hear this often in upcoming childhood animal stories), but someone my father knew had a horse and needed to find it a home. We were told the horse had some allergies, but if we did what was prescribed, all would be well. This was to be my sister's horse. His name was Prince.

Prince was princely. He looked to me like a horse you would see at the circus. You see, he had a very long mane and tail like the pictures above. Not quite that long, but his tail and mane almost touched the ground. To my sister and me, his long hair was an amazing thing. We loved brushing it and braiding it and playing with it, kinda like you would do with a doll.

From time to time Prince would get a little wheezy. We would do what we were suppose to do and he'd seem to be just fine. It was fun having two horses. Midnight and Prince became good buddies. Besides, whenever a friend would come over, we could go on a horse ride together.

One of my jobs each morning before school was to head out to the barn to feed and water the horses. They would hear me coming and whinny.

One bitter cold morning I headed down to the barn to feed and water the horses. I'm sure I heard the whinny. I walked in and there was Midnight waiting at the stall door. As I looked over, however, Prince was sleeping. Or so I thought. He wasn't laying down on his side, he had his legs under himself and his head was upright. I called his name, but he didn't move. As I looked closely I saw a frozen strand of snot. Sorry, but that's what it was. And it was literally frozen from his nose to his leg. Within a second, everything registered in my little girl brain. Prince wasn't asleep. He was dead.

I did what any other girl my age (or older) would do upon encountering this sight. I started screaming hysterically, crying uncontrollably, and running as fast as I could to the house.

I really don't remember what happened next. I suppose all of my siblings and my mother headed out to the barn to see it for themselves. It was confirmed. Prince was dead.

My father had a way of taking care of things. We weren't really told any of the details, we were just told, "Daddy will take care of it."

Well, a few days later, my sister and I walked out the front door, all dressed and ready for school. Books in hand. Ready for a new day. We look out. We look at each other. We look back out. Are we really seeing what we think we're seeing? I'm sure we must have looked at each other and then rubbed our eyes. Then the horror of what we were looking at hit us at exactly the same time. I can remember very vividly standing there, dropping my books, and jumping up and down screaming hysterically...again.

For there in front of us, ten feet off the front porch was our dog. And in his mouth was the hind leg of Prince. Yes, you read that right. Prince's leg was standing there. But he wasn't attached to it. It was just his leg. In the dog's mouth.

Remember when we were told, "Daddy will take care of it"? Well, he did. My father was a meat cutter. He handled dead animal carcasses every day of his life. What do you do with a dead horse in the middle of winter?

Listen, this was almost 40 years ago. Things weren't like how they are today. Back then they didn't have animal carcass removal companies. Even if there were, I'm sure our family could not afford their services.

And so my father did to Prince what he did with a side of beef. And then he disposed of it. Except the dog discovered it. And decided it was too good to pass up. And where's a better place to show-off your great find than right off the front porch? After all, wouldn't you want your family to see your prize? Yep. I'm sure the dog never gave it a thought that he was eating his friend. And in front of us, no less.

I don't really remember how the rest of the story goes. I probably passed out (just kiddin') or blanked it out of my memory. I never saw Prince again. Nor any of his other parts. My father made sure he was taken care of this time. For good.

I know. You thought Prince had thawed out and came back to life, didn't you? Oh, now that would be a story!

Did you gasp? Come on. And it's OK if you laughed. When the kids found out I was telling this story, they burst out laughing. Forty years later, it is funny. It is!