What's eating you? (a true story)

"The prognosis isn't good, I'm afraid" confirmed the vet, firmly prodding at the varied lumps protruding from the dog’s stomach, "in fact, if I didn't know any better I'd say that this one here was a-"

"- A tumour?" Interjected a nervous Mrs. Edmunds.

"Of course not!" the vet snapped, "it would appear to be a lemon squeezer".

Vet and owner turned their eyes to the sick dog who nonchalantly raised an eyebrow and let-rip an almighty belch. An orchestra of metallic clanging resonated from the depths of its belly.

The vet frowned. "It's a kind of neurosis, you know. This dog is - quite literally - bottling something up inside. A fear of displacement, a cry for attention - call it what you will."

***

Wrapped in an operating gown, the dog lay on its back, legs rigid, paws reaching plaintively towards the ceiling as if already resigned to its fate. As the vet tied the strings of the surgical mask around its muzzle Mrs. Edmunds ruefully observed that she ought to have thought of that earlier.

***

The first incision into the dog's belly was made. A gloved hand reached inside and pulled from the guts:

... a gold women's Rolex, given to Mrs Edmunds by her late husband on their 10th wedding anniversary... a hamster... a bee... Crayola crayons in shades of pine green, sunset yellow and tangerine orange... maxi pads... a pair of scissors... a left-hand glove... two blue and red cheerleaders' pompoms belonging to Mrs Edmund's niece... a lace bra... the reading glasses of an unsuspecting Jehovah's Witness who, having placed them on the coffee table, discovered that, moments later, they had inexplicably vanished... a pack of cards (still intact) and... finally... a balding Brillo pad.

***

Mrs. Edmunds tucked the sore dog into its basket and climbed into bed, relieved that the long day was over at last. However, at 4am her dreamless sleep was rudely interrupted by a

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP............!

Two mischievous eyes glowed in the dark.