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April 25, 2004

Ya Try To Do a Good Deed--Part One

We found a stray dog yesterday. Frinklin was coming home from Wendy’s with my Chicken Strips (aka manna from Heaven), and this giant black bear tried to grab them and run when he opened the car door. Turns out it wasn’t a bear, but a gigantor dog; a Newfoundland, to be exact. If you are unfamiliar, please take a moment here, to familiarize yourself.

While Frinklin was outside wrestling with the beast, I was blissfully unaware. We had just returned home from Dog Beach with our own canine family members, and I was checking out new tan lines, keeping the freshly washed dogs off the bed, etc. I was busy.

Then the Jeffrey heard our truck door slam outside, and, as it does anytime one of us returns from anywhere (even the front yard), all hell broke loose. Dogs were leaping and barking, birds began shrieking. But we’re pretty much used to it, and one well timed “SHUT UP!� usually quiets down at least the birds. I corralled The Jeffrey and cracked open the front door to let Frinklin in.

My loving husband greeted me with screams of, “Close the door!! Close it!!� Lest The Jeffrey see that there was a large bear on his territory and go ape shit. Too late. I did get the door closed, but The Jeffrey had seen, and our day went to Crap City.

On the inside of the house, I’m clinging to The Jeffrey’s collar, trying to keep him from peeking out the window, thus sparking a new volley of pissed off, territorial barking. On the outside, Frinklin is chasing the new dog, holding out French fries to entice it closer. He finally wrangles new dog into the garage and assesses that new dog has a collar and license, but no other identifying tags. And on the other side of the door, I release The Jeffrey, as new dog is out of sight.

Then, we do a stupid thing. In an attempt to allow Frinklin into the house, we open the door between the garage and the house. While this has proved relatively harmless in the past with our 70 lb. dogs, when a 130 lb. Newfoundland wants to come in, he just shoves your legs out of the way and comes on in! The Jeffrey, who was already very much not pleased, is now raging at the end of my arm, spitting foam and hatred at this intruder who dare tread upon his kitchen tile! Fortunately, instead of lunging for my crazed dog, new dog calmly checks out the house and seems interested in climbing onto the couch for a nap. We bribe him into the backyard with dog biscuits and fasten The Jeffrey to the couch with a tie down approximately two feet long.

At this point, I have obtained a war wound approximately 4 inches long that is merrily bleeding. It’s on the top of my foot; a reminder that I have been lax about cutting The Jeffrey’s claws, which have now turned into cruel talons. With one dog attached to the couch, and another scratching at the screen door, we collapse upon the sofa and eat our hard won Wendy’s.

End of part one.

Posted by Ensie at April 25, 2004 09:55 AM

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