My late husband Tim was an intelligent, successful man in three careers and in the hearts of his countrymen and a besotted Corgi owner.
Cassie, our female Corgi, had developed the socially unpleasant habit of eating turds. Obviously, this reduced the number of people who were interested in her licking their face affectionately. Cassie felt rejected and started eating a lot of ice cream and Tim became concerned. When Tim became concerned about a problem someone he loved was dealing with, things got done.
One day I came home to find a package on the porch, addressed to Tim, and I carried it in. As he opened it, I asked, ‘what is it?’ He took out a bottle and tossed it to me. It was clearly medicine of some type.
‘Who’s it for? What’s it for?’
‘Cassie. For her copraphagia.’ Due to our research on the turd-eating thing, I knew what copraphagia meant.