Tin cans with teeth marks. They are one of many stories about a black labrador that wandered on to my parent’s farm years ago. Thin and ragged, gauged undoubtedly by barbed wire, he grew very protective of his new found family – he sharpened his teeth regularly.
Grateful and graceful he would go to the pig farm down the road and borrow loaves of bread and bags of donuts that were meant for the pigs. He would come tropsing home with the bread in his mouth, the donuts swinging from his teeth. My mother would greet him with “Oh Jude” and return the items back to the pig farmer.
Jude moved to Seattle with us where he frightened every mailman into submission. They would often bring dog food and drop it through the mail slot before they dropped the mail.
Besides sharpening his teeth by biting tin cans, he could swallow a cube of butter faster than you can say -.
No gingerbread kits those days, my mother and I made our own. We had no idea how much dogs like gingerbread! We came downstairs one morning to quite the spectacle. Jude was severely reprimanded – no butter that day.
Then blood in his stool and he was taken to the vet. He was dying. The vet kept him in the kennel over night for observation. There were other dogs in that kennel. A female dog in particular took quite a liking to Jude – now quite old but you would never guess it.
She had puppies that following Spring.