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Soothing the Savage Beasts “John,” she said, a commanding tone in her voice. I drew my eyes open with great difficulty. It was like there were 20-pound weights on my lids. I had been dreaming. That is what you’re usually doing at 2:37 a.m. But there was that commanding tone. When that voice wakes you, it’s never to tell you dinner’s ready or that it’s time to get up in the morning. Something is always wrong. “Ngyargh?” I said. “Something’s wrong with Ginger,” she replied. “She won’t settle down and she’s constantly shaking. I think she’s itching like crazy.” “Did you give her a Benadryl?” I asked. Now this seemed to me to be a perfectly reasonable question. If the dog was having a histamine reaction, wouldn’t it be prudent to give her an antihistamine? Moreover, since this was happening in the dead of night, mightn’t it be wise to give the dog a pill that would help her sleep? Finally, given the fact that I could think of this at a time when I couldn’t keep my eyes open or even give my own name if asked, I thought I was being extraordinarily helpful. However, the response I got was an angry sigh, a throwing back of the covers, and a wife stomping to the kitchen. This reply was so confusing, it caused me to shut my eyes and fall back to sleep. Thinking about it was exhausting. That bliss didn’t last long. Jennifer was still stomping around the house. Ginger was still running to and fro and shaking every few seconds (and a Shar Pei shake is a very noisy event). “She won’t settle down!” I heard. Maybe it’s because I used to work for a vet or maybe it’s because I’ve had dogs most of my life, but, despite still being unsure of my name, I knew the best thing to do was to comfort the animal. So I dragged my sorry butt to the floor, called Ginger over, and started petting her. The shaking stopped. The running around stopped. The panting continued, but it slowed. Barely awake, I had enough energy and wits to soothe the savage beast. I turned to Jennifer and found her asleep in bed. She, who had been so pissed at me for going back to sleep, had just done exactly that. It was then I understood what the incident was about. She didn’t wake me because she was worried about our poor, itchy Ginger-girl. She did so because the damned dog was keeping her awake! I sighed, but not angrily. My job is to soothe savage beasts, no matter what shape or species they take. With the simple act of stroking a dog’s face, two such monsters were slain in a single night. |
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