Early Morning Heartbreak...

No matter what your routine, some days take you to places you could not have predicted you would be. Sometimes before 10:00 in the morning, even.

It started with a walk. At about 7:30 or so, I was heading down to get a coffee and work on my summer syllabus. This relied on the unrealistic premise, however, that the coffeeshop was not going to be blaring pseudo-reggae to over the din of...nobody else in the joint. So, I figured that since it was a nice day I would walk down to the grocery store. After I passed my apartment building, about a block down I was trying to figure out if I really wanted to carry a carton of caffeine free diet Pepsi a mile, when I saw a personless(?) dog. A little one, or at least a puppyish version of what would eventually be a bigger dog. Every so often I see some scofflaw (heehee--I said "scofflaw") walking with his (always his) dog, not holding a leash or anything. The dog just tags along with his leash dragging. As irritating as I find this, I was ready to be indignant when I noticed another guy walking in the same direction on the other side of the street.

I stepped into the street to get his attention: "That your dog?"

"Never saw it before."

My brain kicked into animal rescue mode, sizing up the animal, calculating how far I was from my car and such. "Hey, guy!" I called.

"Hey!" the dog might as well as called, and bounded up to me. This dog was standoffish, by whcih I mean a complete tummy-slut. He looked at me as if to say, "This is how it's going to work: I'm going to roll on my back and thrash around and you are going to rub my belly. Got it? Let's proceed." And the rubbing began. Such a friendly, enthusiastic dog. At a distance, I thought he might be a full-grown English bulldog, but as he got closer it was clear he was something else. Anyway, he was completely carryable and docile and enthusiastic about it. The guy I called out to came over and said that unfortunately he could not take a dog. Well, nobody was asking you to, but he was basically saying that he would rather not be responsible for the dog from this point on.

So I carried him back to my car and called up to my roommate, who would want a piece of this doggy action. At some point, my new friend barfed a little pile of rocks in my car. But he seemed ok. Animala came down and sat up front while our chum climbed over us and then lay down in the back seat and went to sleep, a very puppy-like reaction, I thought. (If you have never had a puppy, like little kids, they go from "insane" to "coma" in about 3 seconds.) We drove over to the APA in the county, but they are completely closed on Sunday. So, we had to go to the Humane Society. I am always a little hestitant about bringing critters to the Humane Society (though it is always better for everyone than letting a dog wander in the road), so I tried to make a case for the little guy at the intake desk.

A person came out and, according to Animala, decided that he was a pit bull terrier. There was no chip, something that I had really been hoping for. He also seemed to have a little spot mange on his tush. We got him posed for an intake picture, which I have below (that's my arm).


Sortly after this photo was taken, we handed the leash to the desk worker and they led him off. It killed me only a little to see him tug against the leash in my direction.

Hopefully, someone will be in a position to pick him up. (Ben? Flavin? eh? eh?) I sent a note to a pit bull-friendly rescue group in the city, just to let them know that a really affectionate adoptable guy was waiting for them. But that's all I can do, I think. Maybe I'll mention him to the people at the St. Francis Society. I know some of them, but I don't know if they do dogs.

He was really quite a swell guy, and you can see his adoption page here.

HJ