Mr. B and I can’t stand to see a lost pet – whether it’s just a sign on a mailbox, or a dog roaming the neighborhood, it breaks our hearts. In general, we try to lure lost dogs to us – but they generally run the other direction. And then there’s not much you can do about it.
Two Fourth of Julys ago, B saw a yellow lab wandering down our street. He went outside and she ran away from him, but I got in the car with Casco’s leash and collar and followed. B lost the dog, but I picked her up in a front yard a few blocks away. She jumped willingly into my car, we brought her home, posted on Craigslist, made signs for the neighborhood and eventually took her to the 24 hour vet to have her scanned for a microchip. The vet reunited her with her owners and the next morning we got a very grateful phone call. The owners wanted to know where we’d found her – and as they described where they lived, I realized that I had picked the dog up out of her front yard. Granted, if Casco were hanging out in our front yard we’d want someone to take him inside until we were home – but Mr. B likes to refer to July 4, 2009 as the day I stole a dog out of her own yard.
So Saturday, I was hosting a baby shower. B took Casco and Thomas for a walk so that I could get the house clean and food prepped before he left to watch football for the afternoon. And ten minutes into my cleaning spree, B comes home – with a stray dog (no collar) in tow. So B took the dog immeditely to the vet who scanned the dog and found a phone number for the owner – which was disconnected. We posted signs, posted an ad on Craigslist, checked whitepages.com and Facebook for the owner’s name (the only person with that name within a 30 mile radius did not have a dog). And then it was time for B to leave so the babyshower could start.
The dog was cute and knew commands but was nervous and annoying. Jumped on the door, dug holes in the yard, barked. I finally put him in the vacant yard next door and went back to get him at the end of the party. And after the party I called B and said “This is not working”. B was sad – last week a dog was put down at the Boulder Humane Society because the shelter couldn’t find the dog’s owner “fast enough”. But I was dreading a full night with this anxious dog.
And ten minutes after B got my “This is not working” call (and was headed home to help me make it work because he was smitten from the second he met this dog) , he got a call from a guy in the neighborhood who lost his dog. He’d gone to the CU game (let’s hear it for wins for the Buffs and the Broncos this weekend!) and their door had come unlatched. The guy was a baketcase. He came to the house, and I could tell from the way the dog was jumping and wagging his tail as the owner’s car drove up that he recognized his owner. The guy was sobbing – hugging the dog, baby-talking to him, crying some more.
It was a happy ending. And we’d want someone to take Casco in (bad behavior and all) if they found him loose on the street (or, you know, on our front porch). But it was a wild Saturday – and a two dog ownership life flashed before my eyes and I realized I’m really good with just Casco.