Chillin' with a lesser dog

Good morning yet again, gentle readers. It's weird how we keep having these mornings almost every single day. It's kinda like clockwork or something. Anyway, I'm back and pleased to report that I have a story to tell that reminded me of another story. Together, they should be able to join forces to create an entire post. I guess we'll have to wait and see, now won't we? Bwa ha ha. I don't know why I thought an evil laugh was appropriate there, but it just kinda came out. You know how it is.

Last Sunday, my lovely wife and I took our pup for a walk around the neighborhood. She loves being outside because all of the smells and the ability to go to the bathroom anywhere. Our dog enjoys the walks too. (Ba dum ching!) So we were on the final stretch back to our house, and we saw in the distance a little fluffy dog right around our driveway. We waited for a person to appear right after, but it didn't happen. When we got there, the fluffiest little Pomeranian I'd ever seen came up and greeted our dog Hallie. "Hey little thing," I said to the smiling furball. "Where's your person?" Amber asked it. It didn't respond, but just kept playing with Hallie and doing the kind of panting that little dogs do by virtue of breathing alone. Amber bent down and noticed that there wasn't a collar on the dog. We walked to the corner to look in all directions for a person, but this dog was clearly on his or her own.

We saw a neighbor across the street and asked if he knew to whom the pup belonged. "No, but there are signs up all over for a lost dog with a $300 reward," he said. "We just want to help her find her home," my lovely wife said, and the man laughed a little as if he didn't believe us. I asked where the signs were, and he told me where he'd seen them. I said to my wife, "There usually aren't stray Pomeranians just running around, so this dog clearly belongs to someone, right?"

We devised a plan of action. We let the dog in to have some water, and starting calling him/her "Fluffy" in lieu of a proper name. There was way too much fur to see if it was a boy or girl dog, so we fluctuated between "it" and "her." Amber would keep an eye out for any people walking by and I would take the dog in the car with me to look for the signs and call from my cell phone. Here's the thing: we don't like small dogs. We don't think they should count as dogs but rather some other (and lower form of) breed. Fluffy was very cute and sweet though, and this confused us. Amber picked the little pup up and put him/her in my backseat. "Good luck," she said, "and call me with any updates."

I drove around for a little and looked back to see how Fluffy was doing. Adorably, the dog was way too small to poke a head out the cracked window, so instead s/he just sat there and looked up to get as much wind as possible. I finally found a sign, but it was for a Shih Tzu and had a picture that clearly wasn't of Fluffy. I couldn't find any more signs, so I called my wife to talk about implementing Phase 2 of the Klein Plan.

Our vet is in a 24hr office near our house, so I went over there with Fluffy (who was being very good, by the way). I parked and asked them if they could scan her to see if there was a microchip or not with the owner's information. Our dog has one, and so it was worth a shot. With Fluffy wagging her tail in my arms, the guy came back with something that looked like a price scanner and moved it all along Fluffy's back. Right when I was about to give up, it beeped and something popped up on the display. "Cool, just have a seat and I'll be back in a minute," he told me.

I sat there, holding the collar-less dog in my arms like a baby, petting her and telling her it was going to be ok. Other people in the waiting room had a Bulldog and a Boxer, so I kept a pretty tight grip. After close to ten minutes, the guy came back. "His name is Bear," he said, "and I left a message on the owner's machine saying that we found him." He told me that they would take him and wait for the owner to call, but that I could leave my contact info if I wanted. A little invested in this dog now (even though we spent all that time together without him telling me he was a he), I left our home number because I wanted to make sure he would be ok.

I got home and told my wife what happened. She asked me all of the questions that I hadn't asked. "How long will they keep him? What happens after that? Can we take him at that point instead and find him a home?" So I called the vet's office and asked those questions, and found that they would keep him a day or two and then take him to a shelter that would continue calling the owner. They couldn't release Bear to us because we weren't his owners. I didn't argue that point, though I found it full of absurdity. Amber and I talked about how sweet that little guy was and how cute he was with Hallie. Confused with herself as she said it, Amber uttered, "I kinda wanna keep him." "I know," I said, "but that would probably end the first time I heard him bark." That's the thing with little dogs: they sound like little dogs.

The next day, Amber called and found that Bear's owner called back and was coming to get him. The problem was that it was Bear's previous owner who had given him up for adoption because he barked too much. This guy didn't have the most recent owner's information anymore, but he would come take Bear and make sure he found another good home. The old owner called us later to ask exactly where we found the dog and gave us his number if we knew anyone who would want him. Bear, if you're reading this somewhere out there, holy shit - you can read?!

So, we did a good deed and hope that the little smiling furball is in a good home soon. And by "good," we mean "one that puts a collar on him and cares about his well-being." I know I said that this reminded me of another story, but I'll just push that into this week's Follow Up Friday instead of making this post gimongous. Is that cool with you? Have a great rest of your day, and provided that there's another morning tomorrow, let's meet back here. Shaloha.