A four dog morning…..

I was at work about 30 minutes, in a deep conversation with a coworker, when my cell phone rang.  I didn’t recognize the number, so I let it go to voicemail and continued my conversation.  In the next 10 minutes my phone rang two more times, one more number I didn’t recognize and then the first phone number again….something is certainly not right.  So I answer the phone. 

ME: “Hello?”

Her: “Hi, This is Jill*.  I have your dog.”

(This is where I should pause and tell you that my house is the Brady Bunch house of dogs… I had two and Mike had two…so we have FOUR dogs, LAWD help us!)

Me:”Which one?  Where are you?”

Her:”Her tag says, Sully.  There were four dogs that ran past here, but this is the only one I could get.  She appears to be dragging her back leg like she’s been hurt, but I don’t see any blood.”

ME: “She’s 14, and arthritic. She always drags that leg. Where are you?”

Her: “153rd and Pacific”

Me: “Oh gosh, let me get help and I’ll call you right back”

Me: *head desk*

Four dogs on the loose?  CRAP!  I call Mike to see if MAYBE he’s still near the house…no luck, he’s already at work downtown.  So I grab my purse and my keys and I head out to my car.  It’s a 20 minute drive back into the city from my office.  I was wearing heels and a short skirt.  I was not in proper dog chasing attire…but I was going to brave it.  As I drove into the neighborhood, I looked all around hoping I’d just happen up on them on my way to get the old dog.  No luck.  I stop at Jill’s house to pick up my crippled old dog.  She says to me that someone may have called the Humane Society as there were people walking in the park in the neighborhood.  I dejectedly put Sullly in the car and took her to the house.  At this point it’s 9 am and I realize that I have my very important conference call.  So I put on my headset, dial into the call and put the phone on mute.  Hoping the call goes quickly and I don’t have to say anything…because how will I chase dogs and conduct business???

I returned out to the neighborhood, walking through grass that was still dewey in my satin pumps.  I whistled for the dogs, called their names and searched.  I was constantly checking and rechecking my phone to make sure it was on mute….as I wasn’t sure how I would explain the whistling…or the loud calls of various names, “Brutus…Brody…Brianna”  (I was also cursing the fact that all our dogs names were so similar, it was easy to get tongue tied and yell for Broooty, which just made me sound idiotic.)  As I turned the corner, I happened upon Brutus and Brianna…they were together and they were ecstatic to see me.  I was happy to have found them relatively quickly and even happier that they followed me home. 

At this point, I was pretty proud of myself, I’d been away from work for 40 minutes and had 3 dogs back in the house.  I closed the gate and set out to find the little dog, Brody. 

Maybe I should explain the little dog.  He’s half Jack Russel Terrior/ half Daschund and ALL energy.  If he spots an open door, he runs. He preys on the weak and slow, frequently.  We take him to the dog park to run out energy and he tires out ALL the dogs there.  This running is a B-A-D thing when he gets out in the open air.  (This *may* happen often)

So I was heading out prepared. I’d look for other dogs, open garages or people walking, because those are the things that Brody will go up to…and I’d stand a chance.  For 30 minutes, I searched…well I mean the damn dog was in my sights the WHOLE time, but I couldn’t find any of those things that would trap him.  I walked through damp yards, ruining my satin shoes. I tried to look under bushes and trees, which was not easy in my short dress.  I stopped once, because the conference call was getting a little intense and my input required more than one or two words at a time.  I didn’t want to have to explain, heavy breathing, whistling or any of the other strange sounds that may have been coming out of me, in my attempt to wrangle this damn little dog.  In my haste to leave, I did not grab a coat and I was getting chilled. It was a nightmare.  I’d lunge to grab him and pray not to fall into the wet grass or moist dirt.  More importantly, when I was behind the wheel of my car and he was running along side, I tried desperately to keep from gunning it and running the little turd over.  Finally, I saw that he was getting tired, so I pushed him back to the house.  Then I opened the gate back up and I waited…sure enough, within 3 minutes he wandered into the backyard and lay down under the tree.  I closed the gate, feeling worn out but victorious. 

I returned to work, still on my conference call only one hour and 20 minutes after having left….and 40 minutes of it was drive time.

The morale of the story is to make sure the side gate is closed before opening the dog door for the day.  And if you don’t, be prepared to buy your girlfriend new shoes when she runs home to save the day. 

*Jill’s name has been changed because I don’t actually remember what she said.