Taste For Mischief

Crossbreeding a Chihuahua and Miniature Dachshund brings forth a hybrid.

The Chiweenie pup we named Tamu (Sweetie) became ours to the thrill of and by way of our daughter and husband. On most days Tamu proved herself to be a delightful wee companion. Today was not one of those days.

Not long after the tooth-loss drama preceding my unique but successful speaking experience (thanks to a make-it-yourself false tooth kit), I was called to my wife’s side. Ann and I were navigating the early days of her joint replacement. It naturally fell to me as amateur caregiver to offer up some simple service every little while.

When she called for me on this occasion, I happened to be cradling my make-believe front incisor in my right palm. I was set to reinstall it to its assigned spot at the lower front of my open mouth.

“Coming”, I called, heading her direction while momentarily postponing the tooth-insertion task at hand.

A square, glass-topped coffee table sits at the center of our living room. It is an elevated surface I had never witnessed our young Chiweenie visiting. Depositing the homemade denture atop the table, I pivoted and, in short order, filled my wife’s request. Seconds later I was blurting the command, “Tamu, give me that tooth!”

Too late.

Though the enamel-like article didn’t find its way to her throat, the damage to the small denture was done.

To my surprise, this mini-crisis (as with the genuine-tooth’s exit of the previous week) would enjoy a silver lining. To the credit of breakthroughs in plastics research, the properties comprising my artificial, homemade, fashion-it-yourself tooth, gave promise that my full-toothed smile might see another day.

Tamu would surrender her would-be morsel. The traumatized denture would, under my care – including some aggressive sanitizing measures – enjoy a reasonably impressive remake.

Now. To find that dentist.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Desire

Desire comes with being human.  

The moment I launched as a newborn – right from the birth canal – I fought for air. Nothing going forward in life would ever trump the urgency of this one desire. Once my hunger for oxygen was met and my lungs were assured that there was more on the way, a second desire was born. I craved food.

And once I gulped in my first samplings of milk – catching it’s flavor and texture – my infant body had no problem calling for seconds. And anytime the beverage I craved for thereafter was out of reach, I knew it. No one needed to convince me. Like James Dashner wrote*.

“I felt her absence. It was like waking up one day with no teeth in your mouth. you wouldn’t need to run to the mirror to know they were gone”

I write this sitting in a bagel shop next to a couple making conversation.

“What would you say is your passion?” she asked.

The guy’s response sounded muffled due to the Christmas music streaming through my ear buds. That didn’t matter. Her question, though, did matter. It matters to us all, What would you say is your passion?

Of the many desires, hungers, passions that surface in our lives, none trumps something we might call the desire of the heart. We may come to know what it is our heart desires or we may not know.

But every heart desires one thing in common, a thing that is not tangible. Something deep. Grand and even eternal. What we so hunger is real – the most real thing ever – even though it could seem elusive.

We yearn for eternity. And the Being behind it. C. S. Lewis gives us an insight,

If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.

Desirables on this planet crowd the avenues of our lives, forming an endless parade. We feel the magnetic pull toward some attractions more than others. A few may inspire and energize us. We sample the object we’re drawn to and it feels right. An appetite, or desire, can carry such a pull that sensory language must be employed to capture its power. Athletes savor the taste of victory or suffer a bitter defeat.

My Norwegian friend, Oddvar Naustvik found a stirring of desire and nurtured it. Oddvar wanted to successfully compete in an iron-man triathlon.

Another friend, Robello Samuel of India, pursued his desire – to gain expertise in the field of drilling wells.

From the time Cody Stinnett could tap his foot to the rhythm of music he yearned to excel as a percussionist.

Still another friend, young Elizabeth Miles, longed to tackle and master a language.

Each desire is lofty, some even noble. How attractive still is the hungering after ‘another world’, as Lewis suggests. The world for which we’re most rightly suited.

Such desire is withheld from noone. Curious thought. The sensory language of scripture invites,

Taste and see.

©2017 Jerry Lout             *The Scorch Trials. J Dashner