Free Dog Night

This isn't the actual dog in question, but it's damn close. He might not win any beauty contests, but he can hang with me anytime.

This isn’t the actual dog in question, but it’s damn close. He might not win any beauty contests, but you won’t find a cooler canine.

 

I was driving down a deserted street a couple Fridays ago around 11 PM, so obviously I was stone sober, when I spotted some sorta scraggly animal limp across the road about twenty feet in front of me, headed straight for where the street intersects into a much busier one.  I thought it must be injured, so I immediately pulled over and went up to it only to discover it was a little mangy dog, and it wasn’t injured, it was just about a million years old.  Clearly someone’s house dog had escaped somehow and was wandering around aimlessly like Junior from the Sopranos.  I scooped him up in my arms and he was remarkably docile as I walked back down the street, pausing at each house we passed only to ask him in vain if it was his.  I was hoping the thing would jump out of my arms and run across the lawn of the home he recognized, but alas, it never happened, and I’m not about to go knocking on people’s doors like a door-to-door pooch salesman at damn near midnight.  After about ten minutes, I had given up.  “Well pal,” I said while lowering the dog to the ground.  “I hope you’re close to your home.”

Then as I turned around and walked away the damn dog started following me.  I spun around to admonish him and the fuckin thing plopped on his back with his limbs in the air in the middle of the street.

“Goddamn it,” I said.  “Okay. let’s go.”

After all, the damn thing had no concept of how dangerous this road was.  Leaving his old-ass out here would be a certain death sentence.  I picked him back up and put him in the backseat of my car and drove home, which was only about ten minutes away.  I got to my house and parked.  What the fuck was I gonna do?  I can’t bring him inside, my cats would be pissed.  I know, I’ll jump on the ol’ intertubes.  They always have the answer.

I went inside to grab my laptop, and smoked a bowl to further aid my search.  Then I started looking shit up and calling places, but everything was fuckin closed.  Finally some animal rescue place in East Bumfuck answered.  When I told the lady on the phone the story she suggested I bring the dog all the way to their goddamn place, because it might have a microchip in him of all goddamn things that would get him back to his owner.

“Lady, he doesn’t even have a collar,” I respectfully reminded, “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a microchip.”

“Well, just remember,” She artfully countered, “Every second you don’t bring him here is another second his family is out looking for him.”

Damn that was a good one.  “Yeah I guess you’re right,” I said, and mumbled something about leaving before hanging up.  Then I thought for a second.  Wait a minute, fuck that manipulative bitch.  I’m not driving an hour and a half away for some wild goose chase of a microchip when I know good and well the fuckin mutt lives ten minutes away at the most.  Not to mention I’m not so sure about a three-hour commute in my current booze-soaked state.  Looks like Plan B.

I turned to the uncomprehending animal and said, “Well boy, looks like you’re staying the night.”

After grabbing some dog supplies at the local 24-hour Rite Aid and an uneasy introduction with my cats, I slept in my living room because the damn thing wouldn’t let me out of his sight, and I’m not having him dogify my room.  Honestly though, other than the constant following, this dog was one of the coolest and chillest dogs I’ve ever met.  He just fuckin sat and lounged.  He was one of those dogs that’s so ugly it’s cute too, cat-sized with mangy black and white fur, and floppy ears that folded over big bug eyes and down to his underbite.  But he was a cool little bastard.  That’s what made the whole thing possible, really.  I woulda taken the average dog back to that treacherous street and chucked it out of my car by now.

I went to bed around 4 AM and set my alarm for 6 so I could walk around his neighborhood and hopefully catch his owners bright and early.  I parked a street over from where I found him and we began our epic journey all around the neighborhood.  Or rather, we both began it, but only I really participated in it, because his decrepit-ass was through walking after only a few minutes, so I carried him around like a furry loaf of bread for like a half hour to no avail.  Finally I said fuck it, walked back to my car with my elderly companion, and drove back home to comprehend what in the flying fuck to do now.

After a few more failed attempts calling a few more agencies I was at the end of my rope.  Then as Biggie said, “It came to me like a song I wrote.”  My boy’s mom lives on the street where I found the dog, maybe she might know the owner.  It was a longshot but what the fuck, I’m about to drop this dude off at the pound and hope for the best.  I took a picture of the dog and sent it to my boy’s mom with a text that began, “I know this might sound a little weird but…”

Sure enough, she knew the owner and minutes later I was on my way there.  Then to my astonishment we pulled back on the exact same street that I had parked on an hour ago!  We walked right by this fuckin little moron’s house twice and he didn’t even have the common courtesy to tell me.  How very rude.

The owner was this chick who was nice enough, and said her children would be super happy the dog was back.  Then she told me the shaggy old guy was really a girl all along.  It was like my own personal canine Crying Game.

And although I wouldn’tve taken it, it would have been nice to at least get offered a little something for my troubles.  I’m not asking for a blowjob—though I wouldn’t sneeze at it—but offering a couple bucks seemed appropriate.  Then I can play the really good guy and turn it down.  But she didn’t even do that.  And not for nothing sweetheart, but I bought the lil’ fucker two cans of dog food, milk bones, and a leash to walk his/her ass so he/she doesn’t shit all over my house.  This girl’s manners were as lacking as her attentiveness.

When I turned and began moseying towards my car, the dog immediately forgot all about its thoughtless owner and started following me.  Can’t say I blamed him.  Or her.

 

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