It all happened too fast. Faster than I could think to bend
over to avert disaster while holding onto my chubby, dangerously diaperless
newborn’s bare belly with one hand, Buzz was at it again. I saw a blur of white fur and heard his nails
driving into the rug as he entered the nursery running full speed through the
condo. He was fast and agile but not silent. This Jack Russell Terrorist
was adored before my first born was cherished, now I was having trouble
tolerating him. Lack of sleep left me with little patience and humor
necessary for the tiny dog that ate anything that hit the floor and thought
about it later, usually at the vet during an x-ray or a blood test when he was
trembling and still and sorry.
Only regret could still him.
Oh, Buzz, now you have done it! Yet
another, "What did he eat?"
It started when he was brought home at just eight weeks old. We had fallen in love with him weeks earlier
and spent days getting his crate, bowls and toys ready. His legs were tiny and his belly round, but
could he run! And jump! And nip! His father’s name was Crash. This should have been a premonition. The intent was to train him for agility and
enter competitions. His father was a champ.
His failure at agility class is another story. Buzz would jump to greet us and we could
catch him in our arms. One night my
husband was greeted by his eager puppy but did not catch him in time and our
teething pup bit down on his leather jacket, shredding it on his way back to
the floor.
A few weeks later my wonderful husband brought home beef
sandwiches for his pregnant wife. He opened them on the counter telling me
about the new place he’d found and how long the wait had been. Buzz sometimes did not wait for things to
drop to the floor. In this case he
jumped up and pulled the paper wrapping to the end of the counter until the
beef fell to the floor. He grabbed it
and ran while gulping. This was another
strategy of his, swallow without chewing and run as fast as he could around
every inch of our condo and then promptly stop and throw up.
Buzz was our first baby. I felt bad he was clearly not as doted
upon. He was also very curious about
this baby that made so many noises and cried so loudly. We were very careful with Buzz and the
baby. A tiny baby squeak would bring
that little terrier out of a deep sleep into a frenzy as he would try to dig the baby out of
his swaddle. It was a difficult time
managing a Jack Russell and a newborn.
I was alone with the baby and Buzz. It was the first diaper change of the day,
requiring many wipes and a balancing act to get everything into the pail. The baby was also easily startled and growing
bigger each day, making the changing table seem to shrink under him. I carefully cleaned his belly button and as I
pulled the wipe away I noticed his perfectly pink knotted innie. Stunned at this change I stared at my baby, changing already. I did not notice the healed belly button stump had
fallen on the floor. Enter Buzz. His hearing was impeccable even from the kitchen. He came in a whirlwind of teeth and white fur, grabbing the stump and gulping
it down as he ran away from me.
I yelled, “Stop!” Not sure
what I expected that would do except scare the baby causing him to make a mess
all over the wall and scream, writhing and wet.
By the time I cleaned the wall, dressing table, clothes and got
the baby dressed again, Buzz was asleep on the top of the couch, his favorite perch. He eyed me as I walked by as though I could
take it back.
He was still our first
baby even if he was a cannibal.
