This is Jason and I.
To clarify, we are driving in my van (not the Scion…very important to the narrative). It is midnight. We are following behind two guard dogs.
It’s the bloggh. What were you expecting?
To give this some context: The dog on the left is the cactus-climbing German shepherd from a previous post. The other is a boxer. Both will try to bite you and do not come to doggie biscuits, even if you dump half a bag into the back of your minivan.
“Here, doggies. We’re strangers and we have candy.”
The German shepherd greeted me as I was bringing my friend Jason over so he could sleep before his flight to The East (East being Chicago then Grand Rapids and then New York). We were chatting and I recognized the German shepherd as my neighbor’s dog. Much craziness ensued (and a very patient, weary traveler got dogherding lessons instead of intellectual conversation over coffee).
The dogs were frolicking together but were not coming to the car. I had knocked and rang the doorbell of my neighbor’s house but they would not answer. As Jason and I tracked the dogs, my wife went next door and knocked and rang the doorbell. In the middle of the night, someone should be home. No one answered. My goal was to get the dogs into the van and then pull the van up to the gate and let them out. Biting and running stood in the way of this.
And the dogs were running towards a busy street.
Jason and I whipped the van around, shone the lights, honked the horn, and herded the dogs back to the heart of the neighborhood and to a park where there wasn’t traffic. Picture the dogs trotting in sled dog fashion and if one tried to break and run for a yard I would honk and get the dog back in line. This led to me honking my horn at midnight every two or three houses for a couple of blocks. Much props to Jason who would jump out periodically to run and try and catch the dogs. He later said, winded, that he hadn’t run that much since elementary school.
This is our Cloverfield version of the event. Does the Good Samaritan law cover me from charges of driving on the wrong side of the road? This is why we go by Booyor, kids.
I was able to get the dogs to hang out at the park. They would not get in the van. My neighbors would not answer the door. And Animal Control believes that pets should only be lost from 8am to 5pm and deserve only a voice mail if lost when inconvenient. I didn’t see the dogs at the park this morning and this makes me sad.
Master Predictor (and other dog fans), is there anything else I could do? I know the German shepherd had a collar but no tag. I didn’t get a good look at the boxer considering it was trying to bite us.
The frustrating part was the lack of help. One guy made us wait while he pulled his truck out and didn’t stop to help. Another instance involved a couple of people hanging out next to the park who said, “Yeah, that sucks” and offered no help. Neighbors were standing in the street today talking about hearing honking and seeing dogs in the street. Because this is normal?
The rest of the visit was enjoyable, though. Don’t get me wrong.
Another friend from wayback visited today. Much fun was had hanging out and entertaining the troops:
His five kids are in the photo (although one is hidden by the playset).
My wife and I took our kids out tonight to celebrate the end of Break and all of the hard work put into keeping the house clean. (And perhaps to talk about Tom Nook’s remodeling of The Cranny.)
I like to think that my oldest is very talented beyond her years, but I guess Chili’s has stricter expectations:
“Can you draw a line from each organ to the anatomical system it belongs to?”
Dude, we had been reading this instead of this. Parenting fail.
Semi-related posts:
Keep them doggies movin’, Rawhide!
One of the stories of my family’s joke canon involves my uncle trying to convince my older sister that, in the 1800s, there were actually cowboys who would run large dog drives across the plains.
I’m just following in the tradition of my great-grandfather, Angus McBooyor, who had to raise herds of dogs to support his family after the potato famine.
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