Chapter 1: A Nostalgic Mishap

Perhaps it's time to move on from the past, but I find it hard to let go of a certain incident that forever changed my academic life.

Photo by Justin Veenema on Unsplash

While I can't claim to be the first, I certainly was among the earliest to face the infamous dilemma of a dog consuming homework. The assignment in question was a biology project centered on the cultivation of fungi. Our teacher, Mrs. Rowlands, had given us comprehensive instructions that included cleaning two Petri dishes—one serving as a control—preparing a gelatin solution, swabbing for germs, and documenting our findings. Bursting with enthusiasm, I rushed home that day, eager to begin.

In less than an hour, I had cleaned the dishes, prepared the solution, and swabbed for germs, only to be hit by the realization that I now had to wait patiently for the results.

Fast forward about sixty years, and I find myself back at the trailer park where I now reside with other divorcees—men like me, seeking a new beginning. Just last night, I went out on a double date with my neighbor, Rick, and two charming women he met through an unusual online forum focused on removing food stains from clothes. Rick is quite resourceful. The woman he thought I might connect with is a high school teacher specializing in trigonometry.

While we awaited our dinner of pork ribs, she shared a story about a student who had used the infamous excuse, "the dog ate my homework," for not turning in an assignment.

"That happened to me!" I exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" Jenny asked.

"My dog actually ate my homework!"

"You used that as an excuse?"

"No, I mean he really did eat my homework," I admitted, pausing. "And yes, I ended up using that as my excuse."

I hope to see Jenny again soon; she mentioned she'd email Rick to arrange our next outing.

Back in those days, we had a delightful puppy named Earl. He was a curious yet solemn creature, uncomfortable with eye contact and whose nose was perpetually glued to the ground.

For the first week, the Petri dish sat safely on the fourth shelf of a cabinet, surrounded by unused holiday dishware. But my impatience got the better of me, and I moved it to a more accessible location. It was during this relocation that Earl sniffed it out and devoured my assignment.

What frustrated me most was that I was home when it happened. I was lounging in my room when Earl came in, appearing unusually agitated. Thinking he wanted to play, I rolled off my bed to tickle him, only to discover remnants of my assignment stuck in his fur.

Sadly, I never found out if Earl suffered any lasting effects from eating my homework, as he was hit by a car a few months later. That day, however, I quickly fed him some corned beef leftovers, and he soon returned to his usual self.

Though my homework wasn’t completely destroyed, it was certainly deemed unacceptable. I felt embarrassed; classmates like Jerry Warner were boast