I spent several hours today inconvenienced by a little black Chihuahua that found its way to our garage today. He followed my daughter home from a bike ride, despite her politely asking him not to. My husband was out building things in the garage and the friendly little guy just came running in. No collar and absolutely no reservations. He licked, jumped, wagged, and ended up on my patio because we live near a busy street and were afraid to let him wander off, lest he wander into traffic. I called him Scar because he had a giant, nasty, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his back...long healed over and hardened to protect itself.
Everyone seemed to enjoy this surprise guest but me. I wasn't the happiest. What if he's dirty? Fleas? Worms? Can he get my dogs sick? But I put water out for him and gave him treats, and when my daughter told me that she thought his scar was ugly, I told her not to judge a book by its cover. What if it was our Gracie out there, lost and alone? Wouldn't she want someone to take look after her for us until we found her? She agreed, and the pendulum quickly swung in the opposite direction as she named him and asked me a thousand times if we could keep him.
We hung a "FOUND DOG" sign on the telephone pole by the end of our street, and waited hopefully for the owner to call us while our visitor ran absolutely wild in the patio/backyard. My 7 year old passed the time talking baby talk to Scar and calling him our new pup. Each time he said it, my anxiety increased exponentially. My own two dogs went out and played with him for a bit, but my fears over his potential diseases made me bring them back inside, and so we had the joy of their incessant barking for about 90 minutes. I don't know what they were saying, but I'm sure it was about this stranger in their turf, having all the fun!
We called a neighbor to see if it was his, and he said, "NO, but there's a grey bulldog sitting outside my door that won't move". Although interesting, we did not investigate the bulldog. Our hands were full. The kids and I took the dog on a walk to the neighborhood across the street, and ran into a nice lady who took pictures to post on the local Facebook page. We were going to go all the way to the end of the street, but we saw a little dog barking at us, and thought it might be a friend of Scar, so we turned around to find him. He was gone by the time we got to where he had been. We knocked on a couple of doors, and then headed home.
Meanwhile, in my mind is the nagging thought that we are supposed to be Traveling tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and this dog is beginning to feel like he isn't going anywhere. Normally, people come around quickly after a dog escapes and ask if we've seen him. We were going on 4 hours already! So, I put him in car and went to nearest vet! Scar thought it was a delightful adventure. He climbed from the way back over the seats until he was on my lap, with his head out the window. The vet was closed for lunch, must be nice, but they saw us at the door and let us in! How lovely. Scar stood on the counter waiting to be scanned, and when they did scan him, it turned out that he had a chip! I was overjoyed. This little adventure would end soon! I expected an address very near to my house, but it came back as an address in Miami Beach...boo. I asked for the phone number, and turned to leave the vet. As we were leaving the lady who had helped us called out, "Oh, and his name is Flaco!" Hmm...alright Flaco, I thought. Let's get you home!
When we got in the car, I texted the number, and almost instantly I got a response! Yes, the man had a lost his dog. Yes, he lived near Hoffner. What color was the dog I found, because actually, he had lost two!!! He sent me his address and my phone guided me to his house because after 16 years in this town I still don't know how to get anywhere new. To my surprise, he lived on the very street that I had walked down with the kids earlier that day. We drove past the place where the little brown dog had barked at us, past the lady's house that took pictures for Facebook, and to the very end where a man greeted us, took his pup, and thanked us. I told him I was glad the story had a happy ending, and asked him if the other dog he lost was brown because we had seen one on this same street earlier. He said, no, "It’s a gray bulldog!" He was beside himself when I told him I thought I knew where that one was too. He followed me to our neighborhood and my husband walked him down to the neighbor's house that he had spoken to on the phone earlier. Sure enough, three minutes later they came back up the street holding a gray French bulldog. They found him still sitting in the same spot where it had been four hours earlier. And just like that, our adventure was over!
I don't know why all of that happened today- no idea really! But I am very glad that two dogs were reunited with their owner. I'm smiling now thinking of the fun my kids had with the little, unexpected adventure that wagged its way into our Monday, and I am happy that a dog named Flaco came to visit...and then went home!
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Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Saturday, November 14, 2015
My Thoughts Toward Paris
11/13/15
I have no connection to Paris. I am not saddened because of WHERE this tragedy of terror happened; I am sad BECAUSE it happened.
I am sad because I am a person- a mom, wife, daughter, sister, teacher...and so were they.
This life is fragile, and precious, and it is always fine...until suddenly its not.
When I pray, it is not for Paris, it is for her people. For them to be comforted, for them to find the strength to go on amid such tragedy. It is also for the rest of us who were not directly touched.
Nations full of us.
That we would do something.
Whether it is to open our home to someone in need, or to vote, or to donate money, or to go and help where help is needed. Just let's do something to make this world a better, safer place for our children.
I have no connection to Paris. I am not saddened because of WHERE this tragedy of terror happened; I am sad BECAUSE it happened.
I am sad because I am a person- a mom, wife, daughter, sister, teacher...and so were they.
This life is fragile, and precious, and it is always fine...until suddenly its not.
When I pray, it is not for Paris, it is for her people. For them to be comforted, for them to find the strength to go on amid such tragedy. It is also for the rest of us who were not directly touched.
Nations full of us.
That we would do something.
Whether it is to open our home to someone in need, or to vote, or to donate money, or to go and help where help is needed. Just let's do something to make this world a better, safer place for our children.
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