Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: THURSDAY, July 13, 1995 TAG: 9507130013
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: BETH MACY
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Consider that she once visited a pet store and felt so sorry for a rat - who was about to become snake food - that she paid $1 for him and named him Niko.
Consider that when Niko came down with cancer last year, she spent 60 bucks on surgery for her pet rat. That's 60 times what she paid for him.
Now, put yourself in her shoes and prepare for a pet sob story extraordinaire. Last week Lauren's best friend, Melissa Moye, went to Georgia and left her dog named Syd - a.k.a, Syd-Monster; a.k.a., the cutest beagle-mix ever - in Lauren's care.
(You want to hear a pet sob story? Syd was born by the side of a road - after his mother had been hit by a car. He has one blue eye, one brown.)
OK, long story short: Dogsitter Lauren lets Syd out to potty in her fenced-in Old Southwest back yard. Thirty minutes later, she calls him in, but the Syd-Monster has vanished.
She looks under bushes, behind trees. She checks the SPCA, calls the police. She spends enough money on fliers at Kinko's to fund another round of rat surgery.
In short, she freaks.
How will she tell her best friend that her best pet is missing? Will their friendship withstand the ultimate canine crisis?
``When I told her she went into shock. It made me sick,'' Lauren said a few days later. ``The calls have stopped coming pretty much, and I've already done everything there is to do. She feels helpless.''
Two days later, Lauren's pet sob story turned into a pet scam story. I'm a sucker for those.
A woman named Penny calls. She's seen the flier, and she thinks she's got the Syd-Monster. But she wants to know: How much is the reward?
``I think I can get together $25, maybe $30,'' Lauren says.
``Is that all?'' Penny asks. ``How bad do you want him?''
The two beagle-haggle back and forth. Finally, the Syd-Monster ransom is set at $50, and the swapping-of-cash-for-hostage venue is determined: the Sunnyside Market.
Lauren shows up promptly at 8:30 a.m. She does not wear dark glasses.
She wants to see the goods first - to verify authenticity.
It's the Syd-Monster without a doubt. One blue eye, one brown. He is not blind-folded. He appears to have been well fed. And he's back to his old tricks, wildly licking Lauren's face.
``He is absolutely the biggest face-sucker there is,'' she says.
She proceeds to write a check. But, no, Penny wants her $50 in cash.
Lauren goes inside, begs the clerk named Virgie for an exception to her no check-cashing policy. Virgie complies, having seen Lauren's fliers - and being a sucker for pet sob stories herself.
The transaction goes down without a hitch.
Syd-Monster and Melissa are reunited, Melissa crying, Syd sucking her face.
And Lauren, a 22-year-old interior designer, comes away from it all with a few lessons learned:
True best-friendships can withstand almost anything. ``Melissa had me over for Fourth of July dinner in the middle of all this, and she was great, though we tried not to talk about it too much. ... She felt bad that I felt bad.''
Some people will do anything to preserve a pet, while others will do anything to take advantage of the emotions people invest in their pets.
$50 was a small price to pay to save Syd-Monster from becoming snake food for another person's avarice.
Next time, if there is a next time, she'll invite a third party to the cash-for-hostage swap - the police.
Some fatback - I mean, feedback - on last week's column, wherein I ingested 1/8th of a fried chitterling, and lived to tell about it (though I had a hard time describing the taste).
A Bedford woman called to report that she, too, once sampled a chitterling on a dare. ``It felt like I was standing in a barnyard chewing on a very big rubberband and taking a deep breath at the same time,'' she said.
That's it. Perfect. She must accompany me on my next gastronomic adventure.
NOTE: This is NOT the lost pets, lost tastebuds, or lost jewelry column. Honest.
However, those of you with a memory for yard art might recall Joyce Carter, the Vinton woman featured in this space last year.
Joyce was the one who dressed up Suzy, the cement goose that holds court on her front porch, like Lady Luck - hoping that Suzy's wand would wave some Virginia Lottery luck her way.
Joyce was not expecting diamonds to fall from the sky.
But that's almost what happened about six weeks ago. Joyce was walking to her car in the parking lot of Leggett Outlet Center when, lo and behold, she stumbled upon a diamond ring.
She left word at nearby stores. She put ads in the paper. But she still hasn't connected with the owner. If you lost a ring in the Valley View Mall vicinity, call in the description to Joyce at 343-1496, and it's your lucky day.
Suzy, by the way, is currently dressed in her summer bikini. (I had to ask.)
``She's had to wear her rain coat so much lately, it was time for a break,'' Joyce said.
Beth Macy, a Thursday columnist and feature writer, wrote this column within noseshot of her own beagle-mix, Scooter, who smells like a cross between a fried chitterling and something-the-cat-drug-in. Her number is 981-3435 or (800) 346-1234, ext. 435.
by CNB