Missing Dew

Four months!  It has been nearly four months since I lost my right dew claw.  And do you know what?  I still miss it.  I know, it sounds kind of odd.  How can I miss something that most people believe doesn't have much of a purpose; something that is more likely to be injured than used?  To that I say:  Of course it had a purpose, a very important purpose.  Allow me to explain.

A couple of nights ago my snout started itching.  Looking for relief, I scurried from the kitchen to the living room and immediately threw myself upon the room's nice, scratchy, fibrous rug.  Now, usually when I drag my head across it, the itch goes away (it's also great for when I've just been given a bath--there is usually some residual me smell I can rub up against to minimize the icky smell of shampoo).  Not this time however--the itch remained. 

Undaunted, I flipped on my back and started rubbing my face with my paws.  Immediately, I felt relief on the left side of my snout.  I was able to dig my left dew claw into my fur and rake it back and forth, back and forth.  The right side, however, felt just as itchy, if not more so.  I paused for a minute to try to figure out what was wrong.  It was then it dawned on me:  I couldn't scratch my itch because my right dew claw was no longer there.

Now, in general, I try not to dwell too much on bad things (the exception of course is when someone is sauteing something on the stove top--the noise really freaks me out).  Rather than sulk or sink into depression, I try to look for another way of accomplishing what I want to accomplish.  "I'm a ruggedly handsome and resourceful dog," I tell myself, "and if anyone can figure this out, it is me."

I scanned the room then, realizing that I couldn't properly scan the room while lying on my back (everything's upside down, you know), I rolled back over onto my stomach and scanned the room again.  Christmas tree?  Nah, the family would never give me the opportunity to jump head first into the tree and drag my snout across its branches.  The television?  No, I'd never hear the end of the complaints regarding the drool marks smeared across the screen.  Then, I saw it.  Perhaps it wasn't the best answer and perhaps it would never take the place of an actual dew claw, but I had to give it a try.

Casually, I sauntered over to where Pa was sitting on the chair with his legs outstretched at a forty five degree angle on the recliner.  I glanced up at him and discovered, to my relief, that he was so engrossed in his television show that he didn't even notice that I was there.  "Perfect," I thought, "I should be able to get away with my plan at least for a short while." 

Then, after angling my head, I started dragging my snout back and forth across his sneakers.  Ma, Pa, and Sister all started to laugh at me, but I didn't care because, while the sneakers weren't the best solution to my problem (they, after all, don't have a dew claw either), they did provide some satisfaction.

Still giggling, Sister got up and, after prying my head off of Pa's sneakers, scratched my itch for me.  Pa and Ma, in the meantime, suggested that they try to get me a prosthetic dew claw.  I think they were joking, but honestly, it doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.