Run Around

It would appear that on certain days, I am the mother of the Beast. As in Devil. Other times he's sweet, like candy. There doesn't seem to be a balance.

Yesterday was a total nightmare.

I'm doing my dishes talking to my neighbor when she says, "Isn't that Charlie?!" as I look across four lanes of traffic and see my 11 year old boxer on the other side. OMG. I ran out of the house and managed to wrangle him inside as I see one of the pugs heading west down the Avenue. The dogs escaped somehow from their backyard.

Adrenaline kicked in as I schlepped SF into the Sequoia and zoomed down the road. I moved to the left most lane and put the car in park, slamming on the hazards. I told SF to stay put.

Frank the Pug was now in the intersection of a very busy crossroads. I waved traffic out of my way like I was impenetrable to any harm. Yelling to Frank and slapping my knees, I tried to catch his attention. He paused momentarily as if to say "who the fvck are you" before he turbocharged across another four lanes of traffic and ditched behind the Halloween Express.

Fvck, was all I could think. I am never going to see this dog again. I sprinted back to my car jiggling and headed in Frank's direction. Immediately there were two or three people ahead of me who saw what happened and were hotfooting on Frank's trail. Yes, yes! They had seen him! No, it's Frank, not Hank, I said.

SF in not in his seat, but in the far nether regions of the tank and starts to bawl, "I'm never going to see sweet little Frank again!"

I couldn't say anything. Only that morning, SF went downstairs and brought Frank up to my bedroom for a morning snuggle. He was a rescue and only likes a handful of people.

Suddenly, someone motioned us down the road another two blocks. I see a green Durango and turn the corner.

"We have your dog" she said.

"You do? Oh my gosh, thank you so much!" I hugged her. As she opens the back door where her teenage son is sitting, I see Frank next to him, exhausted and completely confused.

"The good thing is these little guys run out of steam and can only go so far" he said. He was right. They are like rump roasts on knitting needle legs. I am so grateful for these strangers who helped me. They saw me and did what they could do to help.

This is why whenever I find a friendly, wayward dog, I try to pick it up and find its owners or at least take it to the humane society. I cannot just drive by. If a dog wants your help, it will let you help. If it doesn't, it will just run the other way.

I don't even think Frank recognized me for a minute. In fact, he was so scared he sprayed his anal glands. For those of you who know what I'm talking about, yeah, sick. If you don't, be glad.

I put Mr. Shankley safely inside of the Sequoia where he continued to smear his sklitch on the front seat and my pigskin backpack.

I thanked everyone again before turning around and wondering where the last of the three could have went. Ginger is normally the one who never looks back. There was no sign of her. No one saw her.

As I head towards my house, I see my neighbor talking to someone in a truck on the Avenue. I pull behind them and eventually she gets in.

"Heidi, Joe has Ginger" she said. I couldn't believe it. Mrs. Bruce Jenner decided to stay home for the day. She was in the backyard.

MY BACKYARD.

You cannot imagine how relieved I was. I don't know what I would have done if something would have happened. I can't to stand to think on it.

It was something to be entirely thankful for.

Unlike taking dear old SF to church for the first time since his blooming consciousness.

He whispered loudly, he stabbed pencils in chairs, put his feet up on the seats and whistled twice. I finally grabbed him by the arm and left before the sermon.

I can't say that I'm a church go-er. I haven't been there in over three years. I feel his pain but I wonder at times if I'm not dealing with little Damien.

I made him go upstairs for the remainder of the evening while I indulged my whimsy.

I sat in the house, quiet except for a dog sigh every now and then. When it was all said and done and my head hit the pillow, I was glad we were all under one roof. Even if we are all naughty, naughty, naughty.