Yesterday, Jacque and I buckled Evan into the car and headed down the driveway to get some Chinese food.
We noticed a couple of loose dogs at the fence, sniffing at Maizey and Milo. Which happens. But we weren't sure if we should do something. I could just see Milo deciding to jump the fence and play so I said I'd shoo the other dogs away. But then I started to feel bad. What if something happened to the poor little doggies? As we got out of the car and started crossing the street, the dogs had no hesitation in running into traffic to meet us. Of course, they didn't want us to actually touch them. It took me awhile to order them off the street and to grab their collars. They didn't have tags with their home phone number listed, but they did have their vet tags. Jacque called the vet while I sat on the ground and tried to hang on and keep all the dogs from growling at each other. The vet's office took Jacque's number and said "We'll try to get a hold of the owner." And so we were supposed to just hang out? Um . . . Luckily, the owner called within just a few minutes and was not far away. While we waited, we told the dogs in how much trouble they were going to be when their mommy got there. You know, if I had a dog and it escaped, I'd be a little frantic. And if someone found them and called me and said they'd been running into the street, I'd be so happy that the person had taken time out of their evening to keep my dog safe. I would thank that person profusely when I showed up to pick up the dog. In fact, "Thank you" would have been the first words out of my mouth. So when the dogs' owner pulled up and stepped out, I figured she would be gushing. Her first words when she looked at the dogs were not quite what I was expecting. "You guys are assholes."
No I did not forget about this series. It's just intermission.
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