Yesterday I tried to save a lost doggy. I left the store on my dinner break, and as I reached the edge of the parking lot, a dog came trotting across the road toward me. I stopped to give it a pat. "Who do you belong to, puppy?" It had no people, no collar, no tags. But it looked familiar, and was headed from my neighborhood. It trotted away from me, into the parking lot, and I followed it. While it busied itself munching on something it found in a plastic bag on the ground, I ran into the supermarket. Found the manager, found security, asked them to call Animal Control so they could hold onto it and make sure it didn't get smooshed by a car. But when the security guard lunged to grab the dog, it bolted and ran back the way it came. "Shit!" I followed it, watched as it almost got hit by an SUV while it crossed the street again, and kept on its heels until it trotted into a backyard. There wasn't much else I could do -- it wouldn't follow me or stay with me -- so I headed back to work and crossed my fingers that it would stick close to home until its people came back.
And to you people who are charged with the care and well-being of this creature: PUT TAGS AND A FUCKING COLLAR ON YOUR VERY SWEET AND CAR-SMOOSHABLE DOG. Jesus Christ, people, it's really not that hard.
Switching topics...
Last night, I had a dream that I was roller skating, bombing down the sidewalk in a short skirt and knee pads. I was off-balance, and there were tree roots and patches of snow, but somehow I managed to speed along without a hitch. It was awesome and exhilerating. After this dream, I must fully confess to having fantasies for quite a while now about becoming a roller derby queen. Evel Kvievel? I fear I don't have enough tattoos, though.
Posted by thevieve at March 9, 2007 8:23 PM