Mood: hug me
Topic: "Elizabeth I" (5)
In jest, if not in truth, Frodo and Sam have always responded to inquiries about Fiona's parentage as "she is a minature Chocolate Lab." Satisfying some, but mystifying most, that the twenty-nine pound brown mound of reknown is of a breed that until that point in time was unknown, has given special interest to those who go beyond in order to learn her name. Children, especially little girls, immediately relate to her as the Princess from Shreck ("the most beautiful girl in the world") and would be disappointed to find out that the name emanates from a PBS disc jockey. Some things in childhood are best left unsaid.
Fiona is clearly Sam's dog, however adventure beckons with Frodo, and weekends, either at Lake Lovey or in the Shire, are spent in close proximity to the leader of the pack. Two weekends ago, Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, rode in the back seat of Frodo's motorcar in order to explore the Appalachian stronghold sans the presence of Sam. Unbeknownst to Frodo until his return to the Shire, Fiona picked up some sort of infection, or bite, and spent the next several days biting on her own butt. The resulting loss of hair and discoloration gave Frodo and Sam great concern, but the trusty associates at the Shire Veterinary Clinic were prompt to respond with a planned course of treatment.
When Frodo returned from his labors that day at Mount Doom, he was greeted by Fiona wearing one of those Elizabethan-style plastic funnels around her neck. Frodo's first words to Sam were "Error Will Robinson, Error," for he surely assumed that the very determined canine would make short work of this alien contraption. All knowingly, he observed as she bumped into chairs, plants, Mr. Beau Neau McKitty, and almost everything in the planned trajectory of her travels about the Shire. Surely, he felt, this monstrosity will be in pieces when Frodo awakened the next morning, or so he thought.
Just before retiring each evening, Frodo takes Fiona and Mick, the Wonder Dog, outside for the last urinary dispatch before bed. Usually, Fiona goes directly to the lowest-mounted of the bird feeders in the Gardens of the Shire, in order to check on alien life forms attempting felonious activity. The result generally being that once alerted the mouse, or mice, who have broken into the "squirrel-proof" feeders, flee ahead of Fiona and her efforts at the restoration of justice. This time, however, something unique happened when Fiona snapped at the targeted mouse, and found that the escaping miscreant was trapped within the geographic scope of the collar, and the snapping molars of Fiona, the Merciless.
Frodo was stunned to watch sweet, little Fiona swing the mouse violently about in her jaws, and then to spit the lifeless carcass at the feet of Frodo. Frodo had never before gazed into the countenance of one so similar in attitude to Attila the Hun.
Before the week of collar-wearing treatment was concluded, the corpus delicti count had reached three, and a probable temporary depletion of the vermin population was evident to even the casual observer. Fiona had exhibited absolutely no problems in adapting to her new coiffure.
The collar has now been removed, and life is returning to normal, along with the fur all around Fiona's butt. Fiona lies by Frodo's feet as he types these lines (she has always enjoyed being in the room while Frodo "chases the mouse"). Her feet kick in dreams, her nose twitches, and she shakes her head to-and-fro.
Scratch one mouse at Heaven's Door.