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April 26, 2004

Ya Try To Do a Good Deed--Part Two

We ate the Wendy’s rather quickly, and decide to contact Animal Control about New Dog. I called, and worked on negotiating the eight-gazillion voice activated prompts:

“What is your name?�

“Ensie�

“I think you said ‘Einseee,’ is that correct?�

“Kinda�

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t understand you, please repeat your answer.�

“Yes.�

“I think you said ‘yes,’ is that correct?�

All in that ever-so-pleasant animatronic voice. I finally was able to get through to a real person. She wanted to know what the dog looked like? Did he have a collar and tags? Could I get close enough to read them? Is the dog vicious? And on, and on, and on. I was able to get out the door, read the license number off New Dog’s tag and get back inside without incident. I thought at this point they would send one of those trucks with the compartments on the side. Probably one with extra-extra-large compartments, as New Dog was the biggest dog I’d ever seen. I hoped it would be air-conditioned. It was hot outside.

She threw me a curve by asking if I knew where Parachute Lane was. Nope, I didn’t, when would they be sending the truck, please? Her response sank my hopes for having a relaxing rest of the day.

“Oh, no. We aren’t sending a truck. The dog’s name is Lucky and here’s the name and phone number of his owners. They live on Parachute Lane. Did you write that down? Good. Bye.�

Gee. Thanks for all your help! (just a touch of sarcasm there)

So, I called Julie and Daniel to let them know their dog had come visiting and that they needed to hurry over and pick him up.

2:30pm: first message left with Julie and Daniel.

After hanging up the phone, I noted that Lucky could use some water. He was a large, black, extremely hairy dog, and he seemed to be panting quite a bit. This leads to the screaming.

Being a good husband, Frinklin had sneaked into the backyard via the side gate and gave water to the thirsty beast. Lucky was very happy to see Frinklin, and wouldn’t let him leave through the now un-secret side gate. Thinking we had learned from our earlier experiences with Lucky and doors, we prepared to fight off Lucky when he attempted to visit the interior of our abode. Do you know what it feels like to literally be mowed down by a large, black, extremely hair dog? I do.

While Lucky continued his earlier exploration of our house, The Jeffrey voiced his displeasure at full volume as I clung to his collar for all I was worth(I want to pause for a moment give credit to Bison Designs for making an excellent product). The thought of having to explain to Julie and Daniel exactly how their dog was killed flashed through my mind several times. And finally, as I said, the screaming:

Frinklin is running through the house chasing Lucky. I am yelling, “Close the door! No-the other door! Grab him! Get him in the garage!� After the longest 30 seconds of my life, Lucky is back behind the fire-proof garage door, and is attached to a leash and a one hundred year old, 300 lb. Oak desk, just to be on the safe side. The screaming continued for a few moments longer.

2:38pm: second message left with Julie and Daniel

We don’t open the garage door again.

5:00pm: third message left with Julie and Daniel.

At 7pm we fed our dogs, as well as Lucky.

After 10pm, we pretty much figured Julie and Daniel weren’t calling and gave Lucky a bed of old comforters to sleep on. We settled in to watch what promised to be the best battle on Iron Chef America: Batali vs. Morimoto.

11:47pm: The phone rings.

It’s Julie! And she’s concerned that we might have her dog, Lucky? He’s a runner and often gets away, although he usually comes home soon after. Why didn’t we let him go? She was so upset she couldn’t sleep, and then she realized that they had messages. She would be right over to collect him.

She was right over. Turns out Parachute Lane is only 3 or 4 blocks from our house. She unclipped our leash and he leaped into her car. Julie shook our hands and told us exactly where she lived, although she didn’t offer a word of thanks, or a single apology for calling so late.

I patted Lucky on the head and said goodbye. Even with all his door crashing, he’s one of the sweetest dogs I’ve ever met. Can’t say such things about my own dog, who still doesn’t fully believe that the bear still isn’t out in our garage, waiting in hiding for him.

And Julie—you’re welcome!

Posted by Ensie at April 26, 2004 07:03 PM

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