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Cut, cut. - 2007-02-09

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< L DykeWrite3 # >

2004-10-07 - 1:49 p.m.

Okay Kids, as promised, the case of the FOUND DOG- (look, I kept a promise!!)


It had been a long week, THREE WEEKS AGO, and it was only Monday.
(follow me on this).

My AMAZING Girlfriend/Same-Sex Partner/Lady-Lover/Meal Ticket/Private Dancer and I thought it would be nice to get the hell out of the house (also our offices) and go out for an early dinner. Yes, an early dinner would be a nice way to bring niceness to a somewhat “lacking in nicety” day. We locked the front door, headed for the car and as we glanced up the street we saw a BLACK & WHITE DOG walking towards us.

So, this BLACK & WHITE DOG walked right up to my AMAZING Girlfriend/Same-Sex Partner/Lady-Lover/Meal Ticket/Dog Lover, as if they had a pre-scheduled meeting. The dog may as well have been holding one of those little appointment cards they give you at the hair salon or your dentists’ office.

Because she was raised with dogs, my AMAZING Girlfriend/etc. immediately recognized that this was a dog “on the run”. She quickly garnered its trust through an intricate series of hand gestures and melodic whistles and sheparded it into our gated, side yard area

What followed was a CAPER and ADVENTURE that I will try and give you the CLIFF NOTES VERSION of, as the non-cliff-notes-version is waaay to rambly and psychotic.

I’ll interject at this point, that unlike My AMAZING Girlfriend/etc., I did NOT grow up with a huge fondness for dogs. My family had several dogs as pets over the years, but they were usually small to medium sized Collie-types with strange Russian names, who would appear suddenly, observe us for a week or two, then mysteriously “disappear” when they would realize that life on the street (or wherever) was probably cleaner and safer than life in our chaos-filled household. During those same impressionable, childhood years, an incident occurred, which we call “the time I was dragged down the street by a big dog” incident, where I was accidentally dragged, by a big dog, down the street, until an adult approached, untangled me from the big dog and took me home, scraped, bleeding, and forever with a not-so-soft spot in my heart for big dogs. Or dog leashes, for that matter. I would, from that point further, avoid big dogs the way someone who eats bad Calamari will forever avoid Calamari.

Because she KNOWS EVERYTHING, My AMAZING Girlfriend/etc. quickly identified the BREED of the dog( I’d mention it ---sounds like “Liberian Rusky”) except I’m in fear that any of the “Liberian Rusky” enthusiasts I’m about to describe might be casually Googl-ing the object of their enthusiasm and find this story and do me some sort of “Liberian Rusky” version of harm and damage. So, I’m sticking with “Liberian Rusky”. Thank you for your patience

I asked innocently if indeed it was a “Liberian Rusky”, or if it wasn’t actually more of a WOLF-DOG than a simple DOG-DOG. My AMAZING Girlfriend/etc. laughed, with that “oh, my sweet, innocent, completely ignorant to the wide variety of dog breeds out there, little same-sex partner” and told me that it was not a wolf-dog, but, indeed, a PURE BRED “Liberian Rusky”. (Whatever!). So, she knows dog breeds and I know TV theme songs from the 70’s. Together we make one half of a well-rounded person.

So, I’m looking at this BLACK & WHITE DOG that had just wandered up to us, outside our house, on our way out to what WOULD HAVE BEEN a wonderfully relaxing, romantic dinner that may or may not have been followed by (cue porn music) OTHER THINGS, and I’m thinking, “Come on, that’s a fancy dog…. I’m sure it’s owner is right up the hill”, and I began pacing, wondering if that owner would wander by, in the midst of what they thought was a casual late-afternoon walk with their “Liberian Rusky” and would suddenly accuse us of dog-napping. I imagined my AMAZING Girlfriend/etc. and I wrongly-charged, then handcuffed and thrown into the back of two separate police cars that would have pulled up all willy-nilly into our driveway. With their emergency lights still flashing, casting a red and blue shadow on our garage door, our neighbors would gather near the black and white cruisers and speculate in hushed tones amongst themselves about what might be going on with the arresting of the lesbians.

Of course, NO OWNER wandered up, even as I loudly cleared my throat in hopes of attracting one. I even went so far as to wander up the street from where the dog magically appeared and called out “hello?” and “is anyone missing a dog?” in an attempt to draw attention to our plight, which is, quite frankly, so unlike me.

The found “Liberian Rusky” was ID-less and very thirsty, so we quickly threw together a makeshift drinking situation which involved water and a beautiful, formerly for-show-only ceramic Bauer bowl (look it up on eBay, it’s nice stuff). The dog lapped up that water the way a quality paper towel (say, Bounty) would absorb a nasty spill (ex: cranberry juice). We refilled the no-longer-collectible Bauer bowl and watched in amazement as the dog drained it once more. This previously collectible Bauer bowl would now become one of those items that has been tainted (in my eyes) and is no longer kept on display or in circulation. Another member of this exclusive “club of shamed containers” is a formerly pristine stainless steel bowl that was forced to double as a receptacle for human urine during an unfortunate, debilitating back injury in the winter of 2000.

After a few minutes, it became obvious that the dogs “owner” was not going to wander down the hill holding an empty leash asking us if we’d seen it’s dog. My problem was that I’d seen too many “Hallmark Hall of Fame/Lifetime Television For Women” movies that start or end with the touching scenario of a lost pet and it’s empty-leash-holding owner being reunited by a self-less do-gooder played by Joanna Kerns or Meredith Baxter Birney.
This was not our destiny… at the moment.

What followed was DAYS and DAYS and DAYS of posting FOUND DOG FLIERS, going to several “dog pounds” to see if any owners had posted about a LOST DOG, visits to every imaginable website about missing pets, a meeting with a VERY CREEPY GUY/GRIEVING OWNER of a LOST FEMALE RUSKY (not the one we found) who may or may not have been having sex with HIS female Rusky that OBVIOUSLY ran away and is living under an assumed dog-name somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere far away from him and his cheap cologne and Man on Dog slow dances.
(don’t ask).

So, In this shortened version of the ACTUAL ADVENTURE I’ll just tell you that FINALLY, as of LAST NIGHT, the FOUND DOG (nicknamed “Girl”) has been placed in a loving NEW HOME and WILL LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

What have we learned?
a) people in the community put up lots of signs on poles for lost things. some are sad, some are funny.
b) some pet enthusiasts are absolutely nuts (make that: a few blades of grass short of a dog park)
c) animals sometimes need our help, and ask us for that help by destroying objects that are being stored in our garages. “Please let me out so I can chase an imaginary squirrel” is communicated by chewing the tires on your new sort-of pricey Bicycle.
d) it’s a good idea to put a “micro chip” in your pet if they might run off and find a way to remove their tags (dogs apparently learn how to remove their tags by watching old episodes of scooby doo backwards, which subliminally feeds them the instructions)
e) never go out to an early dinner.

Through it all, My AMAZING Girlfriend/etc’s dedication to this FOUND DOG was beautiful, kind and generous. Today, she’s somewhat SAD and missing the dog.
I’m going to go and hug her.

Xoxoxo more soon. Be good to yourselves.
--Me