Bad Dog Baxter: The Saga of the Palm Nut: Part I

Part I of III

In light of Baxter's most recent gastrointestinal adventure, I figured it was time to tell the story of his first surgery.

Up to now, the Saga of the Palm Nut was the feather in Bad Dog Baxter's cap. It was the jewel in his crown, and his shining moment of glory.

Bax's previous coup de grace cost him two nights in the hospital plus two weeks of recovery. It cost us upwards of $3000.

It all starts with a beautiful queen palm tree (like this one) that resides in our backyard.

Queen palms bear fruit annually, producing hundreds upon hundreds of 'nuts' about the size of a large grape.

It takes a parrot -- the only animal on earth that eats them -- an hour to gnaw off the thin layer of fleshy fruit. What's left is a fibrous and inedible pit which the parrot, in its unfailing wisdom, discards.

As our palm starting dropping its fruit, we knew we had to watch the Bax-man. Until I could clean them all up, Jenny and I vowed not to let him out back unsupervised.

This worked perfectly until one fateful Wednesday when our cleaning lady let Biscuit and Baxter run out back for a few minutes.

Baxter had his opportunity.

Jenny and I returned from work, and Baxter greeted us by vomiting up a truly impressive mass of stomach stew. We counted no less than 15 nuts in the barf. We were stunned by his gluttony.

For days, he passed more nuts out the other end. Each time Jenny and I would call it out. "Eighteen!" Jenny would exclaim returning from a walk. "Twenty!" after the next one.

After a few days, the count stood at twenty-one. We were impressed to say the least. Explaining to Manuela what had happen, she swore he had been outside for less than ten minutes. He's like a canine Kobayashi.

As far as we could tell, the worst was over. Baxter acted healthy, and we moved on. But we would soon learn the Saga had just begun.