The People You Should Trust
I come home today -- oh, and sorry for the delay in posts, I was waiting for Super-Genius to put up my obituary, but that never came; I digress -- so, I came home today, as I am wont to do, and sauntered into the house per my usual demeanor.
The dogs were sitting in the entranceway, waiting for me to let them outside; I let them out, went over to the computer, and sat down to waste some time before I had to let them back in.
30 minutes later I realize four things: 1) 30 minutes have gone by without the dogs making any noise, asking to come in; 2) the dogs are not barking at anyone or anything at all; 3) the dogs are not in the backyard anymore; and 4) the lawncare guy left our sidegate open.
I run out into the street, hollering for them. My next door neighbours, Gus and Kathy, their dog Cito, and a friend are sitting on their patio.
"Are you looking for your dogs," they ask?
"Yes, did you see them?"
"They ran out a while ago. They were across the street. We thought you were with them."
I am not a small man, so I would be hard to miss in such a setting.
"Did you see where they went?"
"They went across the street somewhere."
"Thanks," I said, muttering under my breath the entire way.
I ran down the street, looked up and down, and couldn't find them. Finally, a neighbour, from his room on the second storey of his house hollered down:
"I saw them running toward the park, like, 20 minutes ago."
I hopped in my car and made way to the park. They were not there. I drove further up the street, looking into every open backyard -- in our tight subdivision the houses are mainly separated by fences, but there are a few "old-school" No Fence backyards still around.
Finally, I turn the corner, about a kilometre now from my home, and see some people on the street, one of whom is a cousin.
"Did you see --?"
"Are those your dogs?"
"Oh, God, yes! Two Cocker Spaniels! Did you find them?"
"We have one of them. The other ran down the street. My daughter is chasing him with a neighbour."
I got Toby, the older, fatter, and thus more easily-winded dog from my cousin (turns out they had both ran into her backyard, rolled around in some peat moss, and were then noticed). Sonny, a small, black Cocker who is afraid of every human being on the planet except my girlfriend, had run away as soon as they came toward him.
I hopped back in the car and drove down the street, picking up my cousin's daughter along the way. She told me that Sonny would not stop running and was headed down around the corner. Almost two kilometres from my house.
I turned the corner to see a man in his mid-thirties chasing my dog, who was just tearing down the street. I yelled for him from the car, but he would not stop. I dared not drive in front of him for fear of him running right into my Camry.
I hopped out of my car and ran after him, begging, pleading, pandering, hollering, ordering -- doing everything I could think of to make him stay until I could get him. He ran for another 500 metres into a schoolyard before I could finally make him stay.
I think he tired himself out.
I drove back home and put them in the house, relaxed and caught my breath, and then decided that if I smoked, now would be a good time to do so.
The dogs are back safe and sound, barely aware that they did anything wrong, and I am still a little pissed off.
The moral of this story?
Dogs are stupid and think that running away is just some giant Game of Adventure; Neighbours are assholes who should never be relied upon to do things to help you when there is no immediate or obvious evidence of recompense; and family always knows to do the right thing, and help you -- even if they don't realize it.
Stupid #*@%ing neigbours.
The dogs were sitting in the entranceway, waiting for me to let them outside; I let them out, went over to the computer, and sat down to waste some time before I had to let them back in.
30 minutes later I realize four things: 1) 30 minutes have gone by without the dogs making any noise, asking to come in; 2) the dogs are not barking at anyone or anything at all; 3) the dogs are not in the backyard anymore; and 4) the lawncare guy left our sidegate open.
I run out into the street, hollering for them. My next door neighbours, Gus and Kathy, their dog Cito, and a friend are sitting on their patio.
"Are you looking for your dogs," they ask?
"Yes, did you see them?"
"They ran out a while ago. They were across the street. We thought you were with them."
I am not a small man, so I would be hard to miss in such a setting.
"Did you see where they went?"
"They went across the street somewhere."
"Thanks," I said, muttering under my breath the entire way.
I ran down the street, looked up and down, and couldn't find them. Finally, a neighbour, from his room on the second storey of his house hollered down:
"I saw them running toward the park, like, 20 minutes ago."
I hopped in my car and made way to the park. They were not there. I drove further up the street, looking into every open backyard -- in our tight subdivision the houses are mainly separated by fences, but there are a few "old-school" No Fence backyards still around.
Finally, I turn the corner, about a kilometre now from my home, and see some people on the street, one of whom is a cousin.
"Did you see --?"
"Are those your dogs?"
"Oh, God, yes! Two Cocker Spaniels! Did you find them?"
"We have one of them. The other ran down the street. My daughter is chasing him with a neighbour."
I got Toby, the older, fatter, and thus more easily-winded dog from my cousin (turns out they had both ran into her backyard, rolled around in some peat moss, and were then noticed). Sonny, a small, black Cocker who is afraid of every human being on the planet except my girlfriend, had run away as soon as they came toward him.
I hopped back in the car and drove down the street, picking up my cousin's daughter along the way. She told me that Sonny would not stop running and was headed down around the corner. Almost two kilometres from my house.
I turned the corner to see a man in his mid-thirties chasing my dog, who was just tearing down the street. I yelled for him from the car, but he would not stop. I dared not drive in front of him for fear of him running right into my Camry.
I hopped out of my car and ran after him, begging, pleading, pandering, hollering, ordering -- doing everything I could think of to make him stay until I could get him. He ran for another 500 metres into a schoolyard before I could finally make him stay.
I think he tired himself out.
I drove back home and put them in the house, relaxed and caught my breath, and then decided that if I smoked, now would be a good time to do so.
The dogs are back safe and sound, barely aware that they did anything wrong, and I am still a little pissed off.
The moral of this story?
Dogs are stupid and think that running away is just some giant Game of Adventure; Neighbours are assholes who should never be relied upon to do things to help you when there is no immediate or obvious evidence of recompense; and family always knows to do the right thing, and help you -- even if they don't realize it.
Stupid #*@%ing neigbours.
