Friday, we had a chiropractor appointment at 5:30. We had to swing by the bank to make a deposit for the company. It was already after five when we left the house.
Well, at the top of the hill, at the first stop sign, there was a little dog running in the street, looked to have a slight limp, with a blue leash hanging from its collar. Nobody in sight chasing this little dog. Brian had to stop for the stop sign and, of course, I got out of the car. Tried to get this little dog. It wouldn’t come near me.
On the way up the hill, Brian following slowly, the first oncoming car stopped and started tossing some of those fried potato tots at the dog, hoping to get close enough to grab the leash. Dog seemed kind of interested, but went running off. Still going up the hill, the dog ran into someone’s yard and started talking to the dog behind the fence. I was hoping to get close enough to grab the leash. The lady who lived in the house came to the front door and started yelling at the dog to get out of her yard. Gee, thanks. I said “I’m trying to catch that dog”. She says “it’s not my dog.” I understand that you old bitch, it’s not my dog, either, but I hate the idea of it running loose out here with a leash attached to its collar. The dog runs out of that yard.
Cars keep coming down the street. I’m in the middle of that side of the road. The dog is between the cars and me. These drivers do not see the dog (the sun was down, it was getting dark and the dogs coloring blended with the road). These drivers do see me. These drivers do not slow down.
I hold out my arms, hands up, motioning them to slow down! slow down! This catches their attention, they do, they see the dog and stop. Still, I cannot catch the dog.
Probably about a quarter of a way up the hill, the dog goes down this side street, more of a lane than anything else, a dead end. There are kids out in front of the house at the end. And they see the dog and start yelling for him. He runs down to them and sits and waits while one comes up to get him. I yell “is that your dog?” And yes, it surely is.
Now, that dog had to be loose for a good fifteen minutes to make it down to where we first saw him. Because you know dogs don’t run in straight lines. No, they sniff here, they sniff there, they check this out and look at that. Then there was the time it took me walking him back up the hill. This dog has been loose for probably at least a half hour. With a leash dragging behind him.
When I got back in the car, Brian is all pissed off. Not at me, not at the dog, but at the owners. How can you have a dog, on a leash, running loose? Did the kids take it for a walk and it got away and they figured it would follow them home? Did they have it tied up outside and it got loose from the rope (I’m sure we’ve all seen dogs tied up to ropes in someone’s front yard) and the kids just didn’t notice it was gone?
The mom did come out of the house when she heard all of the shouting and maybe she’ll pay more attention from now on. I sure hope so. Younger kids can’t be trusted to keep an eye on Sparky, you know? They don’t know all that much about responsibility at that age.
If we hadn’t been in a hurry, Brian said he would have driven down to that house and had a talk with the owner. He was so mad, he said he might just do the same the next day. But, he didn’t.
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