Dave's a magnet to weirdos. I'm a magnet to dogs needing
rescue.
Yes, I do have my own. Two. No, I don't want any more. But
somehow, they find me.
Of course there's our little Mante who fell through the ice on our
own backyard pond, and was rescued (by me, in my pajamas, a couple of weeks
after knee surgery, still in my brace) after his loyal brother ran into the
house barking uncontrollably, intermittently running back out onto the deck and
back in. Besides the winter 'fence' that now cuts our yard in two and blocks
the pond from trespassers, that little event resulted a gradually warmed bath,
layers upon layers of towels and blankets, and hours being held in front of the
fireplace (for Mante, not me), and the most horrific moans emitting from his
little trembling body. But that's another post.
And then there was the time . . . A couple of winters ago, as we
were driving out of our neighborhood, we noticed our neighbor's two golden
retrievers running loose down at the bottom of our hill. We (the
collective we, me and the kids) decided that, since we knew who they belonged
to, we'd get out and try to get them to come to us. They were more interested in
the ducks. Which were on the pond. Which was frozen. Mostly. As we approached
them, they ran directly out onto the frozen pond, and promptly broke through.
The younger one managed to run back to shore just before the surface cracked
beneath him. The older one was not as lucky - slower reflexes, perhaps - and
plunged butt first into the icy water. She managed to turn herself around and
tried to pull herself back up onto the ice, but it broke and broke and broke
under her weight, sending her right back into the water. I shimmied out onto
the ice on my belly (don't judge), grabbed her collar from the back, and
acquired momentary super-human strength to pull the 75+ lb soaking wet dog out
of the water and onto the ice, pushing her butt until she was close enough to
shore that the ice could support her weight. The kids, meanwhile, called 911
but told the dispatcher we had gotten her out before police were able to
arrive. While I shimmied back to the shore, the kids got both dogs' by the
collar. We put the dogs in the car, cranked the heater, and drove them back up
to their house. The grateful neighbor brought us some sort of treat afterward
(I can't remember what. Brownies?), and the car headed to the detail shop.
And then there was the time . . . As I drove through our little
town on my way to work, I saw what looked like a small deer lumbering across a
busy intersection. I realized, though, as I got closer, that it was a huge
bullmastiff. It wandered nonchalantly into the corner gas station. Of course I
pulled in. How could I not? Surprisingly, it grew exponentially as it neared
me, but came to me willingly, slobbering and panting. After securing her/his
collar (I wasn't going to check but we'll say him for arguments sake), I yelled
to a guy going into Wendy's next door to bring me a cup of water for him. The
water was quickly sloshed out of the cup, some of it making it into the dogs
mouth, most of it landing on my feet. Of course, he had no tags. So, after a
call to animal control services, about an hour wait trying to keep a roughly
130 lb mini-horse from continuing to wander, he was scanned for a chip and the
owner was contacted. I took my water- and slobber-soaked self to work.
And then there was the time . . . Sarah and I noticed a small
dog-like something weaving in and out of cars in that same busy intersection,
and then making a beeline for the supermarket. Of course we had to turn around.
We caught up with the little cutie in front of the grocery store, herded her
into our car and, lo and behold, she had a tag!! We called her mom, who was out
searching at that very moment and so incredibly grateful to have her naughty
dog back. Equally so was naughty dog happy to see mom.
And then there was the time . . . Steve the basset hound was
wandering along our main neighborhood street. After a few benign barks,
he jumped happily into the car. He, too, had tags - believe me, that is a
rarity in our neck of the woods - so I called his owner who was also out
looking. Steve wasn't quite as happy to see his dad, though, and Sarah and I
felt kind of bad as he was hauled off, plunked into the back seat, and looked
longingly out the window as they pulled off. :( We had second thoughts about
that one.
And then there was the time . . . A wiener dog named Oscar - not
our wiener dog named Oscar - got lost in the woods above our house. A Facebook
vigil began, and citizens banded together to find him. Separate groups went
searching the trails. Dave and I got a good 3 or 4 mile hike out of it, as we
wandered through the mountains calling, "Oscar . . . Oscar!" To no
avail. My magnet wasn't working, apparently. It turns out that Oscar was hiding
in a yard, just off the first trail head, and was reunited with his family the
next day.
And then there was the time . . . Dave and I drove out of town to
run errands, only to find a small terrier-like dog and a large black lab
running full-bore down the sidewalk. We got ahead of them and pulled over
but, as soon as they saw me, they stopped, scattered, and ran right into traffic.
Don't worry, no one was hit. Had my magnet polarized? We gave up on that one
for fear our chasing would lead to more running.
And then there was the time . . . Traffic seemed to be stopping for
a white floating bag on the 6-lane road I travel home on. Nope. It was a dog.
It was a little white Maltese-type dog. One lady stopped in the middle of her
lane, put on her flashers, and chased the little bugger out of the main road.
Then she gave up. I pulled onto the little side street the dog had bolted down,
followed closely by an alert police officer who had watched the whole debacle.
As the officer approached the dog from one side, I got out of my car and
approached from the other. Eventually, the dog cowered with her tail between
her legs and let me pick her up. She was absolutely covered with HUGE mats. Her
little legs were twice the size of normal because of them. Her ears had little
free-flowing fur because of them. I thought she’d been faring for herself for
months because of them. The officer said she was super backed up with calls and
I volunteered to take the dog to a vet to have her scanned for a chip. Before I
pulled away, I snapped a few pictures and posted about her on the Utah Lost and
Found Pets Facebook page. When I called
the vet about it, though, they said I would be obligated to surrender the dog.
For some reason, I had a bad feeling about that. So, I called the Salt Lake
County number on the dog’s license and managed to get the owner’s name and
phone number! I left a voice mail for ‘Jennifer’. While I awaited the return
call, I had visions of her shock and awe when I announced that I had finally
tracked down her long lost, most beloved mutt, whom I learned was named Jessie.
Nope. She didn’t even know that the dog had gotten out and claimed the mats
were because Jessie had just had an operation and couldn’t be groomed. (There
were no signs of any past operation. Just sayin’. And, even if there were, I’m
pretty sure brushing and cutting off matted fur isn’t against the rules.)
Anyway . . . Jennifer said that her kids would be home from school later that
afternoon, so Jessie and I headed back to my place where I cut off several of
the mats, with Jessie’s thanks, gave her a can of Mighty Dog (‘cuz she is one)
and a bowl of fresh water. She sacked out on a blanket for about an hour, and then
we headed back toward where she was found to meet up with her mini-masters. They
were cute boys who were grateful to get her back, and she was VERY excited to
see them. That made me feel a little better. The officer saw my post on
Facebook, and sent me a message for being Jessie’s hero. Awww.
I’m sure there are more. I can’t remember. I’ll add later if I do.