Bison Poo is a stuffed animal that I got for Munk a while back. He's the younger brother of Bison Boo, who had his horns chewed off by Cappy when he was a younger man. Clyde has taken over the “get mommy to cry“ role, and has a fiery hot passion for tearing Bison Poo's right eye out. He's done this perhaps five times now, and every time I glue the eye back in, with a few more tooth marks in it.
Apparently beagles, as a species, have a strong grasp of the concept of “when nobody is looking.” Before he got into ripping Poo's eye out, Clyde would just take him to the back door, and get big wads of drool matted into Poo's mane. Since Clyde is a very hunchy, pitiful sort of creature, we're not rough with him. We'd just hold Poo in his face and say “NO” sternly and tell him “NO POO.” He would, of course, get very hunchy and look horribly guilty. That, of course, didn't have any effect, except to teach him to steal Poo when nobody was around. Out of sheer frustration, the corrections have gotten more harsh. When he tore out Poo's eye today, I smacked him in the face with Poo several times, and shoved him. Still nothing very brutal, getting hit in the face with a plush toy is not something that even American liberals would deem “tantamout to torture,” but it's really, really frustrating.
In fact, I have really learned to loathe the dogs and their ridiculous faux guilt routine. They'll do something they know is wrong, and when I go over and have a talk with them about it, they get all slow, hunchy, roll on their backs, pitiful ears, etc. “We're SO sorry Daddy. We will NEVER do it again. Didn't you have something to do downstairs? Here, I'll put Bison Poo back on the bed for you.“ I hate them. Not only do they put on that fucking act, but as soon as I stop waving evidence of their transgression in their face, they're all happy, tail wagging, proud of what good boys they are. I'm a human, guys. I can see through your charade. I don't need you to admit to me I'm the alpha packmember. I own a car. I own a house. I own dozens of guns. I don't need you to demonstrate your inferiority in the pecking order. Being superior to a dog is not something I'm proud of. The fact that I don't eat my brother's poop is manifest proof of my lofty standing in this community of ours.
Now, this morning was particularly bad, because I couldn't find Poo's eye. Normally Clyde just rips it out, and it's laying nearby. This time, I thought it might have taken a trip down into his belly. Now, Munk likes to put on her brave face, but she needs her Poo, she can't have him disfigured and horrible looking. And let me assure you, a stuffed animal missing its eye looks horrible and sad. I had to act. I entertained the idea of making him an eyepatch and bandana so he could be a pirate. I called the manufacturer to see if they had parts. I looked around the web for plastic eyes. The thing that makes Poo's situation particularly tricky, is that while he has a pretty standard plush toy eye, there's a plastic backing that gives it an almond, bison-ish shape. This was lost, and without it, things were problematic.
I was able to find a pack of 12mm “Animal Eyes” at a local old lady craft store, and they match Poo's natural color pretty well. I brought them home, and found that they weren't a great option, because the eye itself was smaller than the hole it was meant to fit into. With the bison backing, it would work fine, but without, there was a danger of it falling into Poo's head cavity. Even if it stayed in place, it looked out of whack, and awkward. So, I bit the bullet, grabbed a little hand spade, and went backyard poop diving, hoping to locate the eye. I turned up nothing.
But God is a worker of many miracles, and on a more thorough investigation of the crime scene, I found Poo's eye wedged into a crack where the carpet meets the back door. The eye was badly toothed up, but the bison backing was intact. After removing the damaged eye, and replacing it with a new one, I was able to repair Bison Poo to near factory specifications. His eyes are marginally different colors, but we've got both backings, and the new eye is fresh and un-toothed.
The Hand of God is currently in the mail. I just got shipping confirmation from RadioFence that it's on the way, which is good, but also annoying, since I ordered it last week some time, and they just shipped it today. I'm sure it'll arrive while we're in Florida, and neighborhood vagrants will steal it and use it to shock their younger brothers. Regardless, there will be a reckoning, and a bolt of lightning shall descend from on high, to teach Clyde the nature of his evil, and to instill within him a desire to police himself.