Stupid Little Bitch

Monday, August 20, 2007

Donna is the Deputy Assistant Undersecretary for North American Dog Watching (Southwestern Region). Which means that while she was away, I had to finagle some alternate workday lodging for the little bitch. Since Donna's parents live on my way to work and since they too would be on the trip, meaning I wouldn't even have to ask, their yard seemed perfect.

So, on my way to the office on Friday, I drove the dog to their house and put her in the back yard with a bowl of water. As I left, I reminded her to remember who she was and begged her not to have any friends over. Just practicing for the upcoming years with teenagers in the house.

I worked a little bit late on Friday and by the time I headed home I was exhausted. I drove all the way home before I remembered I needed to pick up the dog.

"I forgot to pick up the damn dog", I text-messaged Donna.

Slipping my shoes back onto my tired feet and postponing my dinner, I headed back to the in-law's. Never my favorite trip in the first place and in this case there wasn't even a meal waiting. Just a smelly, hairy, stupid dog.

I started calling the dog through my open car window before I even got the car fully stopped. I fully expected to see her jumping at the fence, anxiously awaiting my return and the attention she spent all day without.

"Jessie! Come on... let's go home!" I spoke with exclamation points hoping the dog would think I gave a shit.

But as I opened the gate there was no sign of the dog. Where could she have gone? Dognapped? Not likely. She'd have certainly been returned by now with a note attached reading, "Please, have your damn dog back."

My answer came as I walked all the way around the back yard to the other side of the house. The side of the house where the small gate was down for repairs.

Oops.

So the dog was out. Great. For a moment I considered this was a good thing. Then I envisioned the experience of telling the girls that the dog had run away. Then I imagined the dog we would inevitably get to replace this dog. It could even be worse that having to look for this dog.

So I looked. And looked. And looked. For an hour I looked around the neighborhood. Some boys a couple streets over said they had seen her... a couple streets over. Another kid saw her crossing "the big street". All signs pointed to the dog having left the neighborhood, taking a cab to the airport and hopping a flight to Venezuela. Or having been squashed crossing a road. I was hoping for South America though since when this dog dies she's surely going to doggy hell.

It was getting dark and I wasn't going to find the dog. One last trip back to the in-laws and then I'd have to call the kids. Wouldn't you know it though... that effing dog was sitting on the front lawn at the in-laws wagging her tail as if to say, "Have I got a story to tell you. Can you believe someone was stupid enough to leave the fence open?"

Can I believe it? Oh, yes. I believe it. I'm exactly that kind of stupid.

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