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In a Sow’s Ear 10-5-09

Gwen Petersen
Big Timber, Mont.

Last week Garrison Keillor on the Prairie Home Companion radio show spoke of underwear. He sang a song about it. If I recall correctly, it was to the tune of “My Merry Oldsmobile.” The entire skit/song was amusing. But I wonder if Garrison knows about Katrina and her dog, Shaq.

Katrina, a rancher’s widow, rents out her grass to cattle growers over the spring and summer, and in the fall, she allows hunters to stalk the wily deer and antelope over hill and dale. This summer Katrina’s old border collie went to that Great Dog Kennel in the sky. Her No. 2 dog, Emma, a corgi, grew despondent. To be realistic, it was Katrina who found herself missing her old collie walking companion. What to do?

An advertisement for English border collie puppies bragged that they are smooth coated, smart, and easily trained.



Who can resist puppies? Certainly not Katrina. Off she went to the puppy factory down in Wyoming where she fell in love with a wriggly black and white darlin’ she named “Shaq.” For 250 miles of return trip, Katrina learned about puppy love. She had erected a modest barrier twixt the driving and passenger side of the pickup. Her thought was to keep Shaq in the passenger seat and every so often she’d reach over and give him a reassuring pat.

All of maybe 30 feet away from the yard of the puppy-breeder’s establishment Shaq burrowed under the makeshift barrier and leaped into Katrina’s lap to help her drive. Two-hundred fifty miles of road travel with a puppy licking her face, chewing on her arm, biting the steering wheel made for a rather exciting trip.



Back at the ranch, Emma, the corgi, welcomed Shaq the collie with affection – a bit like a tornado meeting a cyclone. Though Katrina’s dogs have always been allowed in the house, this summer she banned the canines to the outdoors. Why? Tablecloths ripped from tables, pillows ruptured making feathery blizzards, the cat knocking over a glass figurine from the top of the cabinet where she’d retreated to escape the harassing Shaq.

Banishing the woofers to the outdoors should have made life easier for Katrina. She put the interior of the house back in a semblance of order. Then she did a load of laundry. How does laundry fit into this story? Read on.

Katrina hangs her washing items on the clothesline out behind the house. She feels the fresh air and sunshine make her clothing acquire a fresh outdoorsy scent. While thus engaged, her attention on the basket of to-be-hung-up laundry wavered.

Shaq, galloping about, dashed past and stole a dangling bit of cloth from the laundry basket and ran off yonder. Katrina failed to notice the theft. She finished the clothes-hanging chore and retreated to the house.

A knock on the door alerted her to a visitor. An inquiring hunter, she thought and opened the door to a movie-star handsome young man. At that instant, Shaq materialized from yonder wearing a bandana around his throat. Katrina gulped and embarrassment smote her. Shaq’s noggin was thrust through the leg opening of the “bandana” which turned out to be a black lacey er-undergarment.

The Handsome Stranger, chortling, held Shaq immobile while Katrina retrieved the er-undergarment. She still suffers from recurring fits of mortification. Perhaps she should contact Garrison Keillor. He might want to add a verse to the underwear song.


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