rhonda to the rescue

I finally saw Danny and Marlon yesterday. I sat, talked, and watched as they bowled and Danny became exceedingly jealous of the bowling skills of the three adults and young teenager in the next lane. The jealousy was well-deserved; even the teenager, who had the lowest score of the group, was bowling about 150+, while Danny averaged between 60 and 70 points. Poor Danny.

We had said our goodbyes and I had started Al's truck when I noticed two dogs running together down a sidewalk. Without thinking, I got out of the truck and called to them, hoping to be able to bring them back to their owner. One of them came to me, and when I opened the door of the truck, jumped right in. The other one ran.

I decided the first thing to do was to call the owner; luckily, the one that had jumped into the truck had a tag and phone number on its collar--the other one, probably known as shy by its owners--did not. I called the number and asked, "Do you own two dogs?"

"Yes," the woman replied.

"They're running around on Michigan Avenue," I said. "One of them came to me and is in my truck, but the other one won't come to me."

The woman sounded a little--annoyed? irritated? She had an I-don't-have-time-for-this attitude as she said, "Well, I'm at my mother-in-law's. I live on X and X," which was about three miles away. She sounded like she wanted me to offer to drive them over, which was a problem since I only had one dog. "My husband's closer than I am," she started to say.

I was barely listening. "Your dog just ran across Michigan Avenue," I said. It is a very busy street with four lanes of traffic each way and a patch of grass in between. "What's the white one's name?"

"Toby," I thought she said.

I started yelling. "Toby, Toby, come here boy!" The dog looked at me, unsure of what to do. After a few harrowing moments, it darted back across the street, and then back into traffic. Cars were slamming on their brakes and honking. The woman on the other end of the line heard the panic in my voice, and she must have heard the car horns, too.

"I'm on my way," she said. I hung up the phone and tried walking towards the dog, now safely back on the sidewalk on my side of the street, but the more I walked towards it, the farther away it went.

Soon, animal control pulled up. He was closer to the dog than I was, and I had an idea that I should tell him the owners were on the way. But he motioned for me to walk away. I did so, and noticed that the dog started following me. He was about ten feet behind me, the closest he had been since I had first seen him, when a guy showed up in front of me and started yelling. "Sobie, come here boy," he started yelling, whistling and clapping his hands together. And my phone rang. And the dog took off running in the other direction, where no one could catch him.

It was the owner. "What does your car look like?" She asked. And I told her, and in the confusion learned that the person yelling at the dog was not her husband. Then her husband (the owner) did show up and started going after the loose dog. Meanwhile, Danny and Marlon, who had been watching my truck, reasoned, "Maybe the white dog will come when it sees the other dog," and let it out of my truck. Wrong. Instead, the dog I had coaxed into my truck--Jada--zoomed past all of us, and the owner just barely caught her collar and held on.

Animal control approached the owners, who seemed very unconcerned about the still-loose dog. "I'm sure he's just headed back home," the owner said.

"I don't think so," said animal control. "That's not what dogs that are scared normally do. And your dog was scared." As I walked off, I had mixed emotions. I was upset that the owners were obviously not upset about their dogs, and I was worried about the loose one, praying that he didn't end up getting hit on Michigan Avenue or one of the other busy streets in the area. And I was a little perturbed that they barely looked at me, and only the first guy that arrived on the scene--the one that ended up not being an owner--said thanks. From what I can determine by looking at pictures on the internet, they may have been American Pit Bull Terriers, which would explain the timidity in the one. I was never afraid of them, though, and I don't think I had any reason to be. The one that did come up to me was a sweetie.

I just have to say this: love your dogs, people. They are precious, and loving them includes being concerned about them and knowing when they are gone. I wish I could take care of those dogs, because I don't think their owners loved them enough. From someone who desperately wants a dog to those that have them, take care of your dogs!