Where Are The Elephants?

Endangered Tchotchke!

There are many joyous events in life, many reasons to shout woo-hoo.  Getting my teeth cleaned doesn't fall in the woo-hoo category.  The mouth of the SJG is so tender these days, so sensitive, like the rest of me.  Getting my teeth cleaned calls for a gentle touch and the art of dental distraction.  I count on visual aids. Carrying on a conversation with the lovely hygienist while she pokes around my gums with an instrument of torture is difficult.  Yesterday, I stepped foot in the designated dental room and knew something was amiss: "Is this a different room?" "No, it's the same room." "Where are the elephants?" "They wanted to go home."  "I don't understand."  "I packed them up and brought them home."  "But I love the elephants.  I love to look at them lined up on the ledge.  I count on those elephants."  "They're very happy at home."  My reporter skills kicked in.  I knew something was wrong here.  Those elephants have hung out on the ledge for years.  This room is their home.  "Okay, what's really going on?" "What do you mean?"  "What's the real reason those elephants have left the building?"  The lovely hygienist sighed.  "It's a new policy."  "An elephant ban?" "The doctors don't want anything cluttering the window.  They think it's unprofessional."  "So all of a sudden, they issued an anti-tchotcke warning?  No knickknacks in the window, no adorable, soothing figurines, or violators will be prosecuted?"  "It wasn't that harsh."  "You should protest."  "I like my job."  "I like the elephants."  "Me, too."