Sidney: the fraidy-cat wonder-dog

Sidney. Sidney is a great soul. She would qualify as the oldest person in the world, if only she were human. Take Sidney's record age and divide by seven. Waddya get? Sidney- the wonder dog.

My dad has called her the wonder dog for years. He refers to her as if she were a child of his. Definitely a pre-pubescent child. And her, she has been in love with my father for years. She would follow him to hell and back for a mere pat on the head. Dad likes to pretend that she's a nuisance. He claims to fantasize about the near future when Sidney's no longer around and his life is miraculously easier. He thinks that I can't see the tears welling up in his eyes when he cracks these so-called jokes.

I have the honor of watching Sidney for two weeks while Dad "vacations" in triple digit heat digging up dinosaur bones. Like I said before, she is a great dog. Until she hears unidentified noises from outside.

I got a little glimpse of her neuroses during a quick thunderstorm the other night. A few paces and whines, a quick "lay down" command, and it was all over. If only I'd known.

Today was the fourth of July. Wasn't really a big deal to me. Sidney and I watched tv for a while and seeing as tomorrow is a work day we decided to make it an early night. I completed my pre-bed rituals and climbed in for a little light reading before lights out.

Crack. CRACK! I'd forgotten what the night of July 4th would be like. Every teenager and their grandma is out setting off cheap fireworks. Naturally my street would be the most active. Again, not a big deal for me. I figured I could handle an hour or so and then all noise would cease outside. Not so.

Sidney was on red alert the moment of the first pop. Her lazy ass perked up, she looked at me, I looked at her, and the pacing began. Back and forth, back and forth around my bedroom. It went on for five minutes, ten, but when the twenty minute mark came up I knew I was in for it. My sharp commands to lay down were no longer working. Sidney was beginning to wear a path in my carpet the likes of which you usually see around a dog track. My patience was wearing thin. The pops outside continued, and Sidney's breath patterns were increasing by the minute. Time for action.

I knew there was a reason I had kept that bottle of Tylenol PM around. With a quick scoop of peanut butter and a slip of the pill, it was in. I just knew she would simmer down within seconds.

Not the case. An hour later she was literally hyperventilating. She was knee deep in the path around my bed at this point and low whines were non stop. Time for reinforcements. Another giant glob of peanut butter, plus two more pills equals Lindsay finally getting some peace and quiet around here.

Again, not the case. I contemplated a fourth helping of Tylenol, but was a little worried about what paramedics would say if I had to call 911 to report a dog who had overdosed on sleeping pills. I figured they would either A) laugh and leave, B) write me a ticket for a false emergency call, or C) call some other men to haul me away in a white jacket with sleeves that tie around the back. Not an option for tonight.


It wouldn't end. I was beginning to hope that she would pass out just from hyperventilating. If only I could be so lucky. Hours went by, and slowly. Her breathing was at the most rapid pace I've ever heard. Faster than my own after climbing a flight of stairs. I was about to lose my ever-loving mind. I needed a distraction. YES! Something to take her mind off of the noise. And here it is. My computer. She followed me into the living room to get it. She followed me back to my room. The lights were back on and I went to work. I hoped that in my process of documenting her psychotic pathology, she may just fall asleep. And what do you know folks. If ever there was a sound more pleasant than a dog snoring, please fill me in.