Monday, as I was driving to work at the ever-so-early hour of 10am, a little white (and I mean, bleached white) poodle ran out in front of me.
Recognizing that little bright white dogs don’t often run around unattended, I slowed down to check it out. It didn’t take a detective to see that it (a) looked terrified (b) was obviously an inside dog, and (c) was lost.
So I stopped to check it out, and at the very least, try to get it out of the road. Once I opened the door, the dog practically flew into the truck.
I called the number on the tag: No answer.
Took the little dog home, put it in the (fenced) backyard.
Called again. No answer.
Went to work, called the number again.
Cool enough, at this point I’m thinking that these people, like most people, have jobs and work. Cool enough, So, I bee-bopped around my day, happy in the thought that I saved somebodys dog from getting run over.
Fast forward about an hour.
My neighbor calls my cell phone.
N: “Hey Kenny, it’s (redacted). Are you dog sitting a little white dog?”
K: “Sort of, I picked it up on the side of the road this morning. Why? Is it barking?”
N: “Well, no. Yes. I mean, I don’t know. There’s a giant black dog, standing on the other side of your fence that really wants to be with the little white dog. That’s the one that’s barking. It’s running back and forth between your place and ours, and it’s a really nice dog….”
It’s at this point that I begin to wonder if I’ve entered some sort of weird literary time warp thing, where I’m now Dr. Dolittle and I’ve collected Jip the dog. So what’s next? Birds, fish and monkeys?
Kaylee and I talked a bit more and decided that if the gigantic horsedog and the little mini white poodle wanted to spend time together, then, hell, who are we to argue?
I told her to lead the horsedog through the house into the side yard.
According to the (redacted), it was an immediate cuddlefest. (ok, say “oh…….awwww…..”….)
Yeah. Cute. Dolittle. Ugh. Anyway.
I get home and call again the number of the little white dog’s tag, in hopes that these people actually own TWO dogs. No answer.
By this time, I’m starting to think these people just don’t care about their dog, which aggravates me a little bit.
So I google the phone number. BINGO! I get a name. I google the name.
Google brings up several links that contain this guys name.
One of which was a staff listing at his office. SCORE!
So I clicked on it. Then I realized that one of my riding buddys’ wives not only worked for the same company, but also in the same office.
A quick call to them discovered that the dog owner was out of town, so someone was likely dogsitting for them!
Which explains why they didn’t call me back…….
So, at this point, I’m thinking there’s no way the person who’s dogsitting is going to check the dog owners voicemail at home, so I’m resigning myself to being a three dog household until the owner gets back.
An hour later, there’s a knock on my front door. Strange guy, strange truck standing on the porch says “um, hey, hi, but I think you have my dogs in your backyard. I’m dogsitting for my brother-in-law and his dog and mine ran away this morning….”
Turns out the little white dog belongs to the guy that’s out of town, and the horsedog belongs to this other guy.
Long and involved story to say that I picked up a dog and saved it from getting run over on Monday.