This isn't any old dog. Not only do I not recognize this dog, but it's a PIT BULL. Don't blink. I really wrote PITT BULL. Maybe 150-200lbs. Ok so I tell middle bebe to get out of the car and just pretend she doesn't see the dog. I threaten her to do this so he doesn't take her life. She listens and walks into the house. Then I grab bitty bebe out of the back of the car (not the back, back like the trunk, like the back seat) and swing her onto my hip. Oh now he likes that. He's very interested. He comes right over and sniffs her little feet. Then he opens his mouth...AND... wipes NASTY brown dog SLOBBER all over my pants. GROSS! Now I look at him with a mother type look that says "Shame on you." And to my surprise...the look he returns is "Shame on Me? Gimme a chance, Lady." It was a Doctor Doolittle moment. This is about 1030 this morning.
Around 1pm he's still sitting on our patio looking in the sliding glass door at us. Like he's the step child or something who has been banished outside. Oh the guilt! I walk out there and tried to see if he had a tag on. And he does! And before I get a chance to look at it he's got a stick in his mouth and jumping around like a 3 year old. He wants to play fetch? Really? I like fish. Who just swim, low maintenance, don't smell, don't slobber, don't need to play. I grab the stick and chuck it as far as I can down the driveway. Maybe he'll get lost on his way back. Um, actually no. He comes back and I grab his collar and write down the phone numbers from it. I call the numbers like a good fellow citizen. Do they answer? NO.
Hubby is up and about by this point and goes outside to see for himself. He pokes his head back in, "Hey, so let's say we don't adopt a dog, but the DOG ADOPTS US!?!?!" No. NO NO NO. Hush it. So by 4 pm I still haven't heard back from the owners, I left a voicemail on the cell. I go back out to double check that I copied the numbers down right. Yup. I did. And that dog pushes past me RIGHT INTO MY HOUSE. Oh dear. I run in there tripping over myself and scoop up bitty off the floor. Which he thinks is apparently a game. He jumps up on me and I SWEAR this dog is as tall as I am. What the heck is going on here? Please don't eat my baby. Please don't eat my baby. Bitty laughs now. See--she's in on it too (the conspiracy). Why is she egging him on?
Once I shoosh him back outside, I call the numbers again. Still no answer. Should I call SPCA? I don't want to be mean. I just want to help. Oh crap. What if I call SPCA and they come take the dog, and THEN the owners call and in my message to them I already told them my name and where we live. Oh crap. Now they can come kill me. Ok calm down. Breathe. Think this through.
I wait until 6, and he's whining on the patio through the screen door. I bring him water. I mean he's been here since 1030. He needs water, right? I finally give in and call SPCA. They don't want to hear from me. They are not helpful. They do suggest that I could load the dog into my car and bring him down there if I really needed to. WHAT!?!?! Don't they deal with animals on an every day basis? Don't they know that is a ridiculous solution? He could have me for lunch in the close proximity. I suggest that perhaps if someone calls in for a missing dog, I could leave my name and contact information. No, they are not interested in that either. 20 minutes and no useful information.
It's now 8pm and he's still here. How do you tell a house (patio) guest to leave when they aren't human? I don't speak dog. In a moment of clarity before it got dark I tried to snap a few pictures of the dog in case we needed to post 'FOUND' signs later. Don't you know that dog squats down and takes a crap the VERY second I take a picture. For the sake of family I have cropped the picture in so you don't have to see that. But I think the look on his face says it all.
2 comments:
Oh, Meggie, he's really cute! I know, I know, not what you want to hear. But, he's sweet and cute and he seems to have decided you're his new best friend. I hope you get a hold of his owners soon!
'Cause you know the real deal, right? Hubby said if we didn't get a boy (when I was pregnant with Bitty) that he got to get a dog. A male dog, that was big and tough and had big cajones. Whatever. I guess to help even out the testosterone. It would be just my luck to have a dog adopt us. Thank God he found his way home later last night. ;)
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