Some of you may have caught that comment Rene made on the “Pawmageddon” thread, where she asked me to tell the story of “The Camera Incident.”  It’s the low point in Bernie bin Laden’s already checkered career, and I haven’t mentioned it until now mainly because for a while it pissed me off so bad I didn’t want to relive it by writing about it here.  But now that some time has passed and my desire to see how far I can drop kick him has diminished, I can tell the story without growing homicidal all over again.  And to be honest, in retrospect I have to admit it’s pretty funny.  But it sure wasn’t at the time…

      So here’s the setup.  As a long time photographer, I own several cameras.  One of them is a Canon Powershot G9, which is a very high-end point-and-shoot camera.  I use it for underwater photography when I go diving, which I do on a fairly regular basis.  When I’m not diving, I leave it on the coffee table in our living room so my wife Diane (aka Maximutt on these forums) and I always have it at the ready in case the dogs start doing something worth photographing.

     If you haven’t figured out where this story is going yet, here’s what happened next.  We normally put the dogs outside when we leave home, unless it’s at night, or raining, or too hot or cold.  This happened a few months ago, so I don’t remember what conditions were like that day.  But for whatever reason, we had an errand to run early one afternoon, and we left Bernie and Linda in the house.  We weren’t even gone that long.  And prior to this, Bernie had been reasonably trustworthy when left alone – he’d shredded some magazines and a paperback book once, but nothing too bad.  Apparently the little assbiter decided he needed to step up his game that day, because when we came back, the camera was in a hundred pieces all over the living room floor.

     I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I blew my stack and went after him like Homer Simpson trying to choke Bart.  Fortunately for Bernie, he outran me and hid behind mom.  I calmed down enough to keep from trying to kill him again, but needless to say, I was livid.  And what’s worse, this was a difficult camera to replace because I need the exact same model.  Normally I’d have just gone out and purchased the Canon G11 or whatever model they’re up to these days, but in my case that wasn’t an option.  Since it’s used for diving, it has to fit into a waterproof housing that’s custom made to fit that particular model of camera, so I had to hunt around on the internet until I found it.  And since it’s a model that’s no longer manufactured, it cost just as much to replace it as it did when I bought it as a top of the line new model.  Believe me, on that day Bernie almost became a model that’s no longer manufactured as well.

     But we’re not done with the story yet.  He’d shredded the camera so thoroughly that Di and I were worried he might have swallowed some pieces of it, which could cause a dangerous intestinal blockage.  So I scooped the little bastard up and took him to the vet for some x-rays, which soon showed that yes, he had swallowed several pieces of my camera.  I tried pointing his ass around the room like a lens in the hopes that he might be able to take pictures now, but no such luck. So now I was doubly annoyed.  Not only would I have to drop a few hundred dollars to replace my camera, I was also looking at a costly surgery to save the life of a dog I was half-inclined to throttle myself!

     Here’s where it got really infuriating.  The vet said there was one hope of avoiding surgery – we had to get Bernie to pass the camera parts naturally.  They were small enough that there was a chance they’d work their way through him on their own.  Bernie normally eats twice a day – about 1/3 of a can of wet dog food mixed with a scoop of kibble and some supplements.  But our vet said we needed to stuff his digestive system as full as possible in order to flush out the camera parts, so for the next 24 hours, Bernie was to be fed an entire freakin' can of wet food EVERY THREE HOURS, and was to be played with as much as possible in order to keep his system and the camera parts flowing in the right direction.

     Talk about disgusting – I could hardly see straight!  So not only does this little snot destroy one of my best cameras, he then gets a prescription for nonstop playtime combined with an all-you-can-eat buffet!  And yes, I know perfectly well that Bernie’s a dog and doesn’t associate one thing with the other, but I do!.  It was like watching someone rob a bank and then not only escape jail, but also win a trip to Hawaii and a week’s worth of filet mignon steaks as well.

     And so began one of the best days of Bernie’s life.  He looked like a kid in a candy store when he saw that first whole can of dog food in his bowl, and he barely had time to appreciate it before I took the little ingrate on a walk after that.  We kept the cycle going into the next day – an entire can every three hours, with trips to the dog park and fun with his friends in between while dad sat there stewing and reflecting on the monumental unfairness of it all.  Not to mention the fact that those mega-doses of food turned him into a hairy little crap geyser.  My only slight consolation (aside from the fact that the plan worked and he passed all the parts without needing surgery) was that even Bottomless Bernie was getting a little full and uncomfortable by the time he went to the vet the next day and was given a clean bill of health.  But even that backfired on us (literally), since we then spent an aromatic evening with him as he wallowed around like a self-satisfied pig, contentedly grunting and farting in his sleep while my wife and I choked and gasped for a breath of fresh air.

     I swear, it’ll be a miracle if he survives to adulthood without me killing him first….