93: Corn Dogs

93: Corn Dogs

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Dog Did What?

Corn Dogs

Teamwork is essential—it allows you to blame someone else.

~Author Unknown

I looked out the window and sighed. Not again. My yard looked like a scene from The Beverly Hillbillies—before they moved to Beverly Hills. It was trashed. With corn stalks. Corn husks and silks. Corn cobs. Anything corn. All compliments of the Bone Mafia.

Yes, the Bone Mafia. My two dogs. They earned that name extorting dog biscuits from me. Miss Chrissie, a Border Collie mix, showed up at our farm one day and made it very clear that she was there to stay. Mr. Nellie was a Bull Terrier mix from the local humane shelter. While he is my “couch potato extraordinaire,” it doesn’t take much encouragement from Miss Chrissie for him to join her in wreaking havoc somewhere on the farm. Apparently, my yard was now the daily recipient of their attention.

I cleaned up corn stalks, over and over again, only to have the yard totally littered the next day. How did they do that? It took a lot of work to “fill” my yard with all of that corn stuff. I was amazed. The corn stalks even included the roots.

I knew it had to be the dogs doing this, but I could never catch them raiding the cornfield. Until one day, when I had stepped outside for a minute, and I heard rustling in the cornfield. I thought I’d better check it out. When I did, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The mystery was solved as I watched the corn dogs in action.

Each dog had a firm grip with his or her mouth on the same corn stalk, on opposite sides. Chrissie tugged her way for a while. Then Nellie tugged his way for a while. Tug and pull. Tug and pull. Back and forth. They tag-teamed that corn stalk until they pulled it, roots and all, out of the ground.

Then the two of them together carried the stalk to the yard. That alone was an amazing feat to watch as they maneuvered between all the other corn stalks (the number of which was decreasing each day!) to reach the yard, neither one letting go. I wonder—did each think if he or she let go, the other one would run off with “their” corn stalk?

Once the Bone Mafia reached the yard (and some shade), Nellie lay down, positioned the ear of corn, still attached to the stalk, between his two front paws and proceeded to strip the husks off the ear, leaf by leaf, silks and all. Once the ear of corn was unhusked, he gnawed all the corn off the cob. Chrissie just lay there watching him eat. No doubt proud that the “little woman” had provided a meal for her “man.”

They rested a while in the shade, leaving the stalks, husks, silks, cobs, and kernels all around the yard. It didn’t take long for them to get up and stretch in anticipation of their search for another corn stalk to annihilate.

I don’t remember how long I stood watching all of this transpire. I just know it was amazing to watch them. How did they figure all this out? How did they decide who tugged when? How did Nellie learn how to husk corn?

I shook my head and had a good laugh. Even though it meant my yard was a littered mess, it actually was just too funny to worry about it. Let them have fun. What are a few corn stalks missing from our field? And the Bone Mafia just looked so cute as they trotted off to fetch their next corn stalk victim. I turned and headed back to the house.

And then stopped dead in my tracks. Wait a minute. Weren’t they headed the wrong way to get to our cornfield? I turned around to check on them and heard the rustling of corn stalks.

From the neighbor’s cornfield.

Oh my. I shook my head as I once again turned toward the house. This time muttering, “I know nothing.” But I also have to admit—a little smile sneaked out.

~Linda Veath Cox

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