Ringing Like a Bell

Part I A week ago we had a "Bell" style family disaster. Bailey puked. First, let me say that it was really late on a Friday night, which is the lowest point of my week, and we also just finished doing our taxes. I was exhausted, to put it mildly. I'm the sort of person who progresses through a few stages of tiredness. First, I get quiet. Then, I get grumpy. If I make it out of the bad tempered stage, I finally make it to the everything no matter how serious or stupid is riotously hilarious stage. That's how tired I was last Friday night. "I'm going to bed," I announced. It wasn't a question or even a comment; it was a public service announcement thrown out by me to my husband and our dog. About that time, my husband was letting our dog inside to sleep on her decade-old subzero sleeping bag. She refuses to sleep on anything else. He gave it to her when she was a puppy, and despite the purchase of doggy beds in every imaginable color, si...

The first time it happened I panicked. Bailey and I were in the backyard playing ball when I saw a little fledgling on the ground. It was old enough to fly but was still small. I crouched down to see it better. Surprisingly it didn't seem at all afraid; it regarded me as curiously as I did it. Bailey loped over and calmly sat across from me, also regarding the bird. "Look Bailey, it's a baby," I said. The bird didn't try to fly or run away. It just stood there calmly looking at the two of us, woman and dog. That's when it happened. Before I could blink Bailey swallowed the bird. Whole. I screamed. Then I immediately started smacking Bailey on the top of the head. In a flash, as quickly as she'd taken it into her mouth, she spit it out. My husband flew out the backdoor, responding to my screaming. If you ever have a crisis, he's the man you want. The bird, dazed and a little gooey, promptly flew up to the nearest pine branch to collect itself. It...