and inspecting every corner of the room. Nothing

I am a professional entertainer, playing the piano and singing for many years, and find my most important quality is dependability. However, I may have carried this attribute a little too far on one occasion.

During the 1995 pre-Christmas rush of shopping, entertaining and sprucing up the house for the holidays, my schedule became absolutely crazy. A week before Christmas, after an especially wild day of completing all of these tasks, I gratefully laid my head down on a pillow for a good night's sleep.

I have two wonderful dogs -- a Golden Retriever named L.T., and a Bassett Hound called Bappy Hoopdish. Now, these two girls are great examples of what each breed instinctively does: the Golden retrieves, and the Hound steals.

At approximately 4:30 A.M., as I was blissfully snoring away, my sleep became sharply interrupted by a pain in my jaw due to gnashing on my lower denture. In my foggy state, I grabbed the lower plate out of my mouth, placed it on the nearest coffee table, and resumed snoring.

By 10:30 A.M., I awakened to discover my bottom teeth were gone. In a state of blind frenzy, I started overturning couches, ripping pillows off chairs, and inspecting every corner of the room. Nothing! I was sure the teeth somehow got knocked off the table and onto the floor, so they had to be there! I tried to remember what happened in the middle of my slumber, but drew an absolute blank. I then started tearing the rest of the house apart, room-by-room, thinking the Bassett Hound had snuck up on the coffee table, grabbed my teeth, and found a great hiding place for her newly found treasure.

During this melee, the two dogs innocently watched me go nuts.

After vacuuming the whole house and ripping everything apart -- still no teeth. Panic set in, as I was due to perform that evening. I wondered if I could possibly pull it off if I didn't sing or talk to anyone, and smile only with my mouth shut.

By six o'clock that evening, doom set in and I prepared to dress for work, practicing my closed-mouth smile in the mirror. I was ready to swear off reliability for life, but couldn't afford to miss the night's salary as the money had already been spent on Christmas gifts.

"Would someone help me get through this??" I didn't know who I was talking to, but my eyes were raised up to the heavens. "I need some assistance here!"

I went to work because I had to be dependable.

Having somehow gotten through that night on the piano, I did not have to perform until three days later. I came home determined to find the blasted teeth, and was also getting very hungry. Three days went by, and still no sign of my lower denture. I knew, after eliminating every possibility, including ghosts, that one of my dogs did it. Which one, and how? It was time to psychoanalyze the darn dogs.

1. The Golden Retriever:
a. Wonderful, sweet dog -- wouldn't do anything wrong, except take my belongings and carry them around.
b. Never had a litter, so she thinks these items are her babies.
c. Collects all of her babies in a pile, in the garage!!

I ran outside and ripped the garage apart and found nothing, except a ball, a pair of laundered tube socks, and a wet dishtowel.

2. The Bassett Hound:
a. Highly intelligent -- everything belongs to her.
b. Steals every toy that comes into the house, and remembers where her hiding places are located
c. Loves to dig in the dirt!! OH, NO!!!

Could both dogs have done it? Impossible!! But wait -- the teeth were put on the table at 4:30 A.M. and the Golden went out at about 7:00 A.M. The Bassett woke up a little later, and also went outside. Hmmm...

I went out to the snow-covered back yard with my shovel, followed by the two frolicking dogs. If I had to turn the whole yard over in the middle of December, I would do it!!

By this time, I was pretty sure of what happened. L.T. thought the lower denture was a new toy, and took the teeth into the garage during the early morning hours and stashed it with her 'babies'. Bappy went out later and found the teeth just lying there, and decided to bury them.

As I started digging, the Golden just watched me. But, the Bassett started slinking around to her hiding places, checking on her buried treasures. From place to place, she nosed the ground until she finally came to a favorite spot in the dirt. She nudged the snow with her nose, and I ran forth with my shovel, digging into her hiding place, and found... a pull toy just recently purchased.

"Don't you touch that!!!!" I yelled to my very unhappy hound, who didn't like me messing around with her stuff.

While my back was turned, she snuck up and grabbed the dirty toy, sneaking around the yard once again to find a place to re-bury the darn thing. I watched her from the corner of my eye. From place to place she slunk, until I saw her nose push the dirt in an attempt to hide the pull toy once again... Running over with my shovel, I carefully dug down six inches through the snow and dirt, and found... My teeth!

After many rewards to the guilty dogs, much scrubbing off grime caked into my bottom denture (and who knows what else), I finally sterilized them in boiling water, then in a glass of Brandy, and went to work that evening.

The show must go on.