So...
Yesterday, ZoomBoy and I were on our way out of the house to go pick up Squish and we think that's when it happened. Because when we got back to the house, New Dog--a.k.a. Ginger, was missing.
ACK!
I went into action. Posters, OUT. Canvassing the neighborhood, DONE! Posting on appropriate websites, CHECK!
Me falling exhaustedly into bed for a very short and belated nap before fixing dinner-- GAH. Too. Tired. For words.
And later that night there was a knock on our door. Somebody (they'd posted on the websites but by then I was napping or fixing dinner) returned our New Dog to us, just in time for her vet's appointment to be scanned for a microchip.
Whew.
That brought us to today. Brought the dog in to have her scanned and checked out--and to get a pedicure. There was a microchip. As God is my witness, nobody at the vet's office knew what to do with that. Took me 45 minutes to find out. (It's currently posted at all the local shelters--someone looking there will be given our contact information.) Anyway, ACK! Forever. Finally, left the dog there, went home and got the OTHER two dogs and took them for a walk.
It was a lovely day. I thought, "Okay, getting errands done, time to go to Oilstop for a 30 minute oil change and to get the tire pressure checked." Yes, there were gauges going off--I don't do this out of the blue.
Anyway, 30 minutes--with the dogs, mind you--turned into TWO HOURS. My blood sugar dropped. I had to pee. And I was trapped in the car. (Thank God it was a nice day with a breeze.) I had water for the dogs, and they'd just peed. Mostly, they slept and I read (no knitting!) But two hours!
Finally--FINALLY--we get out of there and I HAVE to go get food because I can feel the loopy/crying blood pressure thing going on. And then it's time to get New Dog back from the vets. So the fourof us are going through Bannfield to get a new halter (since she's wearing the cat's, at present) and I pause to see if I have everything I need, and the dogs...well, they weave the Gordian Knot between my knees with their leashes. It was incredible. I've never SEEN such dedicated entanglement. And there I was, unweaving three leashes and paraphernalia from around my ankles and under my feet, when a Little Old White Lady shows up with an opinion.
"Your dog stepped on her leash," says LOWL.
"I see that," I say, barely managing to stay upright.
"It's under her feet," she says, pointing at new dog, who is, at most, 10 inches tall, including her ears, and on four feet--only one of those feet, btw, is over the leash, which is on the ground.
"Yeah, I know." At this point I am untying a three-way knot involving poop-bag dispensers, hand sanitizer, and a portable water dish.
"I'm just telling you." She's getting defensive.
"I know, okay!" And so am I.
"I don't want her to fall on her face!" she says.
"Sure, lady, the dog's the one we have to worry about," I say, going in, under, around and through, like a Hippopotamus doing the laser beam scene from Entrapment.
Anyway, she huffs off for some reason, I have no idea why.
So, by the time I get home... well, I'm done. I'm exhausted, I haven't showered yet, my blood sugar's doing a roller coaster, and I haven't done a lick of work in two days. Mate makes sure I shower before assuring me he can pick Squish up from their friend's house after school, and I slink off to bed wondering if I overreacted.
Ginger didn't seem to think so. She cuddled up under my chin as though she was never in danger of tripping and falling that dreadful 8 inches to the tile.
Yesterday, ZoomBoy and I were on our way out of the house to go pick up Squish and we think that's when it happened. Because when we got back to the house, New Dog--a.k.a. Ginger, was missing.
ACK!
I went into action. Posters, OUT. Canvassing the neighborhood, DONE! Posting on appropriate websites, CHECK!
Me falling exhaustedly into bed for a very short and belated nap before fixing dinner-- GAH. Too. Tired. For words.
And later that night there was a knock on our door. Somebody (they'd posted on the websites but by then I was napping or fixing dinner) returned our New Dog to us, just in time for her vet's appointment to be scanned for a microchip.
Whew.
That brought us to today. Brought the dog in to have her scanned and checked out--and to get a pedicure. There was a microchip. As God is my witness, nobody at the vet's office knew what to do with that. Took me 45 minutes to find out. (It's currently posted at all the local shelters--someone looking there will be given our contact information.) Anyway, ACK! Forever. Finally, left the dog there, went home and got the OTHER two dogs and took them for a walk.
It was a lovely day. I thought, "Okay, getting errands done, time to go to Oilstop for a 30 minute oil change and to get the tire pressure checked." Yes, there were gauges going off--I don't do this out of the blue.
Anyway, 30 minutes--with the dogs, mind you--turned into TWO HOURS. My blood sugar dropped. I had to pee. And I was trapped in the car. (Thank God it was a nice day with a breeze.) I had water for the dogs, and they'd just peed. Mostly, they slept and I read (no knitting!) But two hours!
Finally--FINALLY--we get out of there and I HAVE to go get food because I can feel the loopy/crying blood pressure thing going on. And then it's time to get New Dog back from the vets. So the fourof us are going through Bannfield to get a new halter (since she's wearing the cat's, at present) and I pause to see if I have everything I need, and the dogs...well, they weave the Gordian Knot between my knees with their leashes. It was incredible. I've never SEEN such dedicated entanglement. And there I was, unweaving three leashes and paraphernalia from around my ankles and under my feet, when a Little Old White Lady shows up with an opinion.
"Your dog stepped on her leash," says LOWL.
"I see that," I say, barely managing to stay upright.
"It's under her feet," she says, pointing at new dog, who is, at most, 10 inches tall, including her ears, and on four feet--only one of those feet, btw, is over the leash, which is on the ground.
"Yeah, I know." At this point I am untying a three-way knot involving poop-bag dispensers, hand sanitizer, and a portable water dish.
"I'm just telling you." She's getting defensive.
"I know, okay!" And so am I.
"I don't want her to fall on her face!" she says.
"Sure, lady, the dog's the one we have to worry about," I say, going in, under, around and through, like a Hippopotamus doing the laser beam scene from Entrapment.
Anyway, she huffs off for some reason, I have no idea why.
So, by the time I get home... well, I'm done. I'm exhausted, I haven't showered yet, my blood sugar's doing a roller coaster, and I haven't done a lick of work in two days. Mate makes sure I shower before assuring me he can pick Squish up from their friend's house after school, and I slink off to bed wondering if I overreacted.
Ginger didn't seem to think so. She cuddled up under my chin as though she was never in danger of tripping and falling that dreadful 8 inches to the tile.
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