Trouble Comes to Tiny Town, or Miss Maybelline’s Travails, Chapter 1

June 6, 2006

Miss MaybellineHerein, trouble comes to Tiny Town to vex the gentle soul of Miss Maybelline, my best friend of the last 10 years. The country life is highly overrated. Here’s an example of what can happen when a person is minding their own business and reading a book. We’re talking major redneck country here. One of my “neighbors,” who shall remain nameless, likes to be prepared for any contingency. Not that anything much ever happens here.

Power outage during a thunderstorm or ice storm? No problem, his expensive generator immediately kicks on in the first few minutes. About two hours is the longest we’ve ever done without power here, during an ice storm. He’ll be outside the next morning, scraping the few snowflakes (and the pavement) up off the road. Sorta like strip mining. In the event of civil unrest in this small ‘burb of oh, 100 people, or an “intruder,” he had what he thought was a lean, mean, fighting machine — a German Shepherd guard dog.

As the air cooled and dusk approached on one recent early summer evening, his wife strolled past my home, pushing a baby stroller containing her newborn infant. Mr. “I’m probably overbred and definitely poorly trained” German Shepherd strolled about five feet behind her, unleashed. (Of course there’s a leash law here.) Much to the credit of Miss Maybelline and her compadre, Penelope Puppy, neither has ever lunged at the German Shepherd, despite the fact that the perp walk past my house has been going on for the past few months and literally under the noses of Miss Maybelline and Penelope Puppy. However, this phase was ending.

Pajamadeen never even liked dogs that much until Miss Maybelline adopted me. She’s become my best friend over the years, traveling everywhere with me and always with the same sunny disposition and affectionate nature. She might lick you to death, but that’s about it. If you say “Maybelline, company?”, she’s so overjoyed at the prospect that her entire body shakes from the vigorous wagging of her tail. She whines in one of her happy tones and suddenly flings herself, belly up, on the ground in front of you — where she lays, wagging her tail and blissfully dreaming of the prospect of. . .company.

As sometimes happens in life, actions converged in an unfortunate way. Maybelline was sitting by the window, staring wistfully at the great outdoors. When she’s out, she wants in; when she’s in, she wants out. This is a dog worthy of an Oscar — she can stand huddled against the screen door on a balmy 72-degree afternoon, with large, liquid brown eyes that would melt your soul, conveying a message of “Look at me! Do you see what has happened to me? I’m. . .shudder. . .outdoors. . .” The German Shepherd, stepped from the street into my yard. Maybelline jumped for joy. A visitor! The great day had come! She raced to the sliding screen door, which has always been slightly off-track and wobbly, and pushed her pointy nose into the edge of it, all 54 lbs. of her morbidly obese body serving to propel her forward and pop the door out of its track…

(to be continued. . .)

Read more about Miss Maybelline’s adventures.

Copyright ©2006