As I mentioned a while back, I bought an English Bulldog for my husband's 50th birthday. She's eight months old now and weighs around 45 lbs. "Etta" is very sweet and enthusiastic. Her idea of a hug is to tackle you and knock you off your feet. Her idea of a kiss is a lick that will require a towel to clean up. Whatever Etta does, she always goes big. About a month ago, we were playing of the floor of the kitchen and she leaped up near my face with her mouth open and put one of the fangs in her lower jaw right through my lip. I had a hole that went clean through my face and a fat lip for two days. It healed quickly and cleanly, but I've learned to be more careful. Two weeks ago she decided that I needed to share my toast with her and, just as I took the first bite of my jam covered snack, she came flying up onto the couch, slammed into my face and ate the toast in a single swallow. I was afraid she'd broken my nose. Her best pal is our 8 month old Persian cat, Cheese. But at least once a day I have to remind her that we don't sit on, drag or body check our kitty. It's not her fault really; she's large, clumsy and a bit hyper - she can't help the occasional miscalculation. That's what I've decided to attribute her latest "accident" to - a miscalculation. Etta likes shiny things. Forks, knives, watches, chains, the metal bits at either end of the hose... When she sees them, she grabs them and tries to run off with them. Yesterday afternoon I was sitting on the couch watching a movie and Etta was entertaining herself trying to get the kitty's bell out from under the coffee table. I figured just lying there on her side staring at the bell and pedaling her feet should entertain her for at least half an hour. She eventually lost interest and, after another 20 minutes of struggling to get up on the couch (she can only do it easily if she has a running start), she sat down next to me with a huff. I figure that's when she noticed my earring. A big sparkly rock, held up by a sparkly bit of metal. She took about ten minutes to sidle up to me. I realize now she was probably stalking the earring. When she got close enough, she was breathing on my face and I glanced at her and said, "What? What is it now?" I figured she'd bark at me like she usually does. Nope. Not this time. This time she just leaned in close, slapped that fat, gooey tongue onto my cheek and slowly slurped her way to my ear. She did it a second time before I shoved her away and wiped the slobber off my face. About a minute later I reached up to take off my earrings, first the right and then...oh, shit. It was gone. My left earring was gone. I checked on the couch, under the couch and under every other object in the room. Gone. Etta was now back on the couch happily watching me search. Stupid dog. Unfortunately, I knew what my choices were/are: take her to the vet to see where my earring is exactly and then wait until I get it back or just feed her some Metamucil and hope I get it back quicker. Either way, unless the damn thing punctures something on it's way through, I figure I'll see my earring by Wednesday and the only one who'll suffer is me when I have to clean the poop off of it. Etta got her shiny thing and I've got a few days of picking through poop. I'm starting to wonder how she'll do with the Christmas ornaments once I start putting them up. That's all I need once our holiday guests get here: A bulldog with a few inches of silver garland hanging out her backside. Festive!
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