She’s one smart puppy

Wednesday, 06 June 2012 12:15

Crunch. Crunch. I heard crunching in the living room and wondered, "What's going on?" Crunch. It was a foreboding sound.

Then, I realized our puppy was chewing on something with those razor-sharp puppy teeth. Rawhide? But rawhide doesn't crunch. The legs of the new sofa that replaced the old sofa she ruined?

Doritos? Yes, Doritos were a possibility because she has a junk food addiction and often creeps into the pantry to steal popcorn, or worse, barbecue potato chips.

I found her hiding behind the sofa, chomping away.

"What do you have, Bella?" Whatever it was, I knew I'd have to pry it from her teeth, clamped tight as a steel vise.

"Can you share and give me some?" I asked in my best Mr. Rogers voice.

When I saw what it was, Mr. Rogers suddenly turned into Mr. T. #%!*$@#!!! (FYI, that was several mouthfuls of unrestrained swearing.)

She was chewing my prized Montblanc fountain pen with an 18-karat gold nib, a cherished gift from myself to myself for some notable achievement, although I can't remember which one.

Her white muzzle was circled by a ring of black ink, and she looked like a Maltese with a goatee. My first instinct was to pick her up and make a 30-yard pass through the living-room window, but then I took a deep breath to regain my composure and settled on my second instinct, which was to punt her out the front door.

Things got worse when my wife walked in and offered encouraging advice to make it all better, e.g. "It's your own fault for leaving that pen lying around!" I responded like Linda Blair in The Exorcist, with cuss words spewing from my mouth.

The truth — the whole truth and nothing but the truth — is I didn't leave the pen out. Bella unzipped my satchel, took the pen and then zipped it closed. You believe me, don't you?

My wife defended the dog like F. Lee Bailey, and pretty soon, my daughters got into the debate and started texting me.

"It's your fault, you never discipline that dog!!!!" This came from a daughter who can't spell "discipline," much less understand the concept.

My wife compounded the indignity by telling me to "get over it" because I have a lot of other fountain pens, adding, "You're too attached to material possessions." She reminded me of Sister Immaculata, who used to order me to give up my weekly allowance for the overseas missions so poor kids could have Jujyfruits at my expense.

"It's your own fault" was the family verdict. I've never seen a more disturbing manifestation of the "blame the victim" syndrome.

Actually, I blame my wife for not teaching Bella the basics of dog obedience and my daughters for ever suggesting we get a dog. Any dog that can unzip a satchel and zip it up again should have enough smarts to know you don't gnaw on expensive fountain pens.

When I told the guy at the repair shop, he asked, "Do you own a Rottweiler?"

"Not yet, but I may trade this mutt in for one."

Joe Pisani can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it