Day of the dogs
This was the scene in our garage Wednesday. What an adventure the day was.
It began with me working from home for a few hours in the morning to attend to matters on the homestead. Leaving late morning to the office in downtown Indy, I ventured outside to see this duo sniffing through our curbside trash. Calling to them, the doggies ran off. Following in my car, they led me through the neighborhood on a similar trash investigating pursuit and almost once got mowed down by a speeding construction van. That made my decision - they can't be left alone. At one point, I cornered the dalmation on a lawn with a trusty banana I'd grabbed on the way out the door. Petting her as she laid down to sniff it, I examined her pink and rainbow-colored collar and the dogbone-shaped tag that listed her name "Dot" and a local phone number. A call yielded no results.
Using the banana, I pursuaded the dalmation to get into my car. But she wouldn't leave without the Beagle, who wouldn't get in. The little one started whining and the dalmation ultimately needed to jump back outside. The pursuit continued around the street and I finally convinced both to come on a car ride back to my house.
What to do? Four phone calls to the wife at work- no answer. Neighbors and those acting as neighborhood watch block captains didn't respond. Suz came home for lunch to help figure what to do. Gave them water. A paw print to Suzi's white shirt meant she had to change before returning to work. I drove her back, as my car was parked in the garage and we didn't want to risk opening the garage and allowing an escape.
Though stranger dogs, they were very nice. Well-groomed, obediant and obviously had been trained and cared for. Knew what "sit" and "stay" meant. The dalmation liked to jump. This, of course, presented concern about my pump site and loose tubing that dangled like a toy playstring from my waistline - but all turned out well. No harm done.
Phone calls that afternoon provided clues, but yielded little result. Got home. No little presents left, just a torn sponge and a ripped red rag and mangled sponge. We went off to dinner and came back a couple hours later. Once home, called the owner-tag number again and got an answer. Gave directions and within minutes, the dad and son arrived in their truck to fetch the lost doggies. They apparently live on a 10-acre farm to the south of our neighborhood, and the dogs had gotten lost a day or so ago. Dot ususally stays on a tie, but if Little One gets away, Dot goes too. But not the other way around. Apparently, a point was made to tell us this. Made sense from the car ride convincing earlier in the day. Then, off they went.
That's it. Meanwhile, cat knew something was up. Paced by the door and glared toward the garage the whole time. Sniffed my hand and dog scent covered pants extensively later, curious about where I'd been and who I was associating with. She's still not happy.
So, that's the story. At work, since I had to call in and explain why I'd be coming in later, they've dubbed me the Dog Whisperer. And everyone is happy that the story has a happy ending.
Feel free to also check out Suzi's version of the story at her blog here.