The Day of the Dog

I have a love/hate relationship with Saturdays.

The love part:

  • my husband is home all day
  • we don’t have any weekly social commitments (like work, church, the gym, visiting our lonely parents)
  • we don’t think about work (unless his servers or my eLearning Campus are exploding)

The hate part:

  • yard work

I love our yard and my garden but not between July and September, when the temperatures are at their highest and the humidity is so thick that crossing the yard feels more like swimming laps.

This week, though, we had an unexpected guest join us.

The Dog

She trotted down the road and wanted nothing more than to play and come in the house. So, I left the weeds to tend themselves while I tried to figure out where she had come from without letting her lick my face (which wasn’t easy considering that she was as tall as me when she got on her back legs!).

Finally, I figured out that she lived about ten houses down and told my husband that I would be right back… without the dog.

Trotting up the road, I laughed to myself and wondered what sort of people owned this enormous puppy.

Then she showed just how much of a puppy she really was. A college girl had just pulled into her own driveway and was pulling her backpack from the trunk.

“Nice dog!” she said. “How old is she?”

Before I could respond that I hadn’t the foggiest idea, the dog had leapt into the trunk. Startling and funny. And she seemed to find it even more funny when she found out that it wasn’t even my dog.

I pulled the dog from the trunk and tried to restrain her long enough to let the girl close the trunk, but that dog was too strong and had jumped back up into the trunk. Six attempts later, the trunk was closed with the dog on the outside of the car.

The trot up the road continued. But as the house number came closer, the dog vanished between two unfenced back yards.

I waited, listening to the jingle of her tags fade before trotting back to my own house to finish the yard work.

Twenty minutes later, guess who showed back up. Through the unfenced backyards, the dog sauntered back to our house and proceeded to nestle into the tall grass.

Then my imagination started to have fun with the ridiculous situation. What if her family was out of town and we had to take care of her for the weekend? What sort of mayhem would have ensued trying to keep this enormous German shepherd puppy in check? Would she dig up my garden and sleep on our bed — the only bed in the house? Would she smear our windows with her drool and leave huge nose prints on the sliding glass doors?

We never did find out. As my husband trudged out with the lawn mower, she spotted another dog and abandoned us for good. I kept an eye out for her trotting up and down the road, trying to weasel her way into other people’s garages and houses, but alas, I saw neither hide nor hair of her.

Besides the hairs that she left all over my shirt. Clinging to me with her drool. But at least it helped us forget that it was 90-something degrees out with 250% humidity.

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2 responses to “The Day of the Dog

  • C.B. Wentworth

    We have a house in our neighborhood that can’t seem to keep control of their dogs. I feel bad for the dogs and I’m mad at their owners. One is a little mutt that can’t weigh more than 8 pounds and the other is a huge lab. I see them loose all the time and it breaks my heart. How easy it would be for them to get hurt in the street or find themselves lost in the desert when its 100 degrees outside. I hope the dog you encountered has found her way back home. Bless you for looking after her.

    • Bryna

      That’s so sad! Fortunately, we live in a quiet, small neighborhood and she only came from halfway around the circle, so we think she’s okay. Since we haven’t seen her roaming since or seen any lost dog signs, we’ve taken that as a good sign that she made it back all right.

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