Megan was intended to be the loving wife of our male golden retriever named Ike. They never consummated their marriage correctly. No puppies despite my Father’s quaint notion of having a breeding kennel in the backyard of our suburban home.
She was an eater, not a hunter, and an eater of everything. Favorite edible items included colored crayons and socks which yeilded some very soft, colorful piles of poop to discover.
One afternoon, I came home from school to find Meg in the backyard struggling to pass something. After long and careful scientific observation, I picked up a stick and lanced an object that was protruding from her anus and slowly pulled. I successfully extruded a perfectly intact pair of my Mom’s ‘desert rose’ hued panty hose from her butt. You could have rinsed them out and reworn them! She was so happy, she tore around the yard all crazy like, and kept circling back to jump up on me to try to lick my mouth.
Proof of her amateur hunting abilities stem from an episode where I witnessed her in hot pursuit of a stag. Joyfully bounding through the woods with her mouth wide open, she was clothes-lined by a barbed wire fence. Ouch. She returned home with a very bloodied muzzle and did not open her mouth for 3 days.
She got to be almost 200 pounds before her death at a ripe old age. It took three of us to get her into the station wagon for my Mom to take her to the vets when it was time for her to be “put to sleep.”
