Telling Tails

Last night, my family blended with my friend's family, as has become our tradition, and we once again told the story of Passover. Each of us has a particular favorite aspect of the Seder to look forward to. For some it's the required four cups of wine, for others, the amazing desserts; for me, it's the hard boiled eggs and the lemon chicken. Which just goes to show, there is no accounting for taste.

Nobody really seems to pay much attention to the story, even though my friend's Haggadah is carefully designed to tie the thousands of years old tale to modern day issues. But, as with most ritualistic holiday meals, we all enjoy the sense of connection and community. And we all, I'm guessing, eat too much matzoh and experience what very well might have been the eleventh plague: constipation.

Every Passover, I'm reminded that it must have taken the Jews so long to pass through the desert because they could barely walk waiting for that damn unleavened bread to, well, pass through. A few days of the crisp flat delicacy (which is truly heavenly when smeared with butter) and even the mighty Egyptians would have been walking with their tails between their legs.

Which brings me to the latest canine crisis in my house. The other day, when the now morbidly obese Manny and I took a walk, I was horrified to see his normally uplifted curly tail pointing straight down between his slightly bowed hind legs. He looked as if he had just ridden a horse. Naturally, giving my dogs far more credit for empathy than they deserve, I assumed Manny was depressed that we had to drop Leo off at home (he is suffering from his monthly post-chemo exhaustion). I tried everything -- poking, pulling, tossing Manny extra goodies -- but still the tail remained in a disturbingly downward position.

So I rushed Manny to the vet yesterday, and after she poked and prodded and pulled a bit of paper towel out of his butt, she concluded he was probably suffering the effects of some "indiscreet eating." Matzoh! He somehow must have gotten his paws on some. I had spent two days worrying that Manny was either deathly ill or severely depressed, and the old guy was just celebrating Passover!

I'm watching him closely; his tail seems to be elevating slowly, and it is even regaining its perky curl. I think we'll all lay off the matzoh for a while, and, like all unpleasantness, this too shall pass.