Clean Teeth, Dead Breath

Pearl's been on her own since her husband, William, died. But she still had her little dog, Gina - her best friend. Things change, and accidents happen, but who will pay for Gina's death? Pearl Pearson loved her little dog. It was her companion. She’d lost her husband, William, seven years ago and not a day went by that she didn’t miss him. He was a real estate broker, and had just about all of their retirement nest-egg tied up in four large homes—which he intended to flip. Then the housing crash slashed the value to a quarter of what he paid for the properties. The catastrophic loss of future revenue resulted in William dying of a fatal heart attack—right in front of Pearl and Gina.

The first year after his death was the hardest; Pearl had listened to advice from her well-meaning friends. “Don’t make any drastic changes.” She didn’t. “Don’t get rid of everything right away.” Again, she didn’t. But there came a time when she couldn’t bear to see his clothes hanging in his closet any longer. Those clothes could be put to good use. Pearl gave them to the local thrift store after making sure they donated some, if not all, of their proceeds to the local animal shelter.

It was lunch time; Pearl always fed Gina first—then puttered around the kitchen to see what she felt like making for herself. She had just turned 83 this past March, and was feeling every year of it. Her eyes were getting worse too, even though cataract surgery fifteen years ago most certainly helped improve her cloudy vision.

“Gina! Are you ready for your roast beast?”

“Woof!” replied the Miniature Pinscher. Pearl even warmed up the roast beef in the microwave, nine seconds on power level four. That did it every time; just the right temperature. Gina loved Pearl and her “roast beast,” and Pearl loved Gina. It was that simple. Gina jumped up on the couch, and sat on her haunches while Gina hand fed her. She was a spoiled dog indeed. A pat on the head, then the requisite “give mommy a kiss,” meant lunch was over. Gina’s kiss this lunch time was not so sweet. Even mixed with the roast beef, Gina’s doggie breath was pretty pungent.

“Gina, we’re gonna have to do something about that doggie breath of yours. Poo wee!” Gina closed her mouth as if she understood, her little brown eyes wondering what Pearl had in mind.