ALTERNATE TITLE: PEOPLE ARE FREAKS
“Suzie” (not her real name) joins the Dachshund Protection Program. I could tell you more but then I’d have to kill you.
Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Now you do one, too (trust me on this).
So, I’m driving to the Kash n Karry last night to pick up Leroy (pouring rain, couldn’t do it to him when I saw him an hour before, he rides his bike to work), and my phone rings. It’s Bev from DARE (Dachshund rescue).
“We have a problem and we need to move Suzie.” (again, not her real name). Suzie is my foster Dachshund (from last week’s incident, reference the prior blog entry-Suzie was one of the puppies I was referring to). Well, was. you’ll see.
Ok, let’s paraphrase: Remember the freaky lady I wasn’t very nice to last Saturday? Yeah, well, she and her daughter have decided that we STOLE the puppies and she has called the police (sidenote here: as Tom said, imagine being the cop who got THAT call- “Unit nine, when you’re done checking out a rape, swing by such and such address and check on stolen puppies”- this is why we can’t rehabilitate criminals, look at where we’re spending our manpower!) and, apparently, threatened me, threatened to come get the puppies, etc. So, DARE wants to relocate the puppies so I’m- and this is a direct quote- “not in any danger”. From a blonde? Please.
So, of course, they have located a “safe house” for my remaining foster, Suzie. I ask Bev if we should change her name. I am kidding. Bev says it wouldn’t be a bad idea. I believe she may have been serious. I then start to laugh and ask if I should dye her hair or shave her. THAT gets a laugh from Bev (thank god, I was starting to worry). I ask when I can bring “Suzie” to her safe house.
Now, let me take a break here and say that I, more than anyone I know, think dogs are infinitely better than people, and I would move heaven and earth for mine if I thought I should. But, aren’t we getting a little carried away here? I mean, these people only have my first name (and it’s not like my name is Ambrosia or something weird) and a cell phone number. Ya can’t Google me with either- go ahead, try- and even if you had my last name or web site address (which has my physical address on it and, no, I’m NOT taking that down!), finding me isn’t as simple as looking for the nearest Wal-Mart. I mean, these people couldn’t teach a puppy her own name, and we’re worried they’re gonna sleuth out my address through web research?
And then let’s say they DID find me and the dog. Madison barely lets the pizza guy in (we have to wave the box under her nose, hold her collar, and promise her ALL the crusts and her own beer), has scared off prowlers in her lifetime, and won’t let strangers within ten feet of me. I really, really, REALLY don’t think she’s gonna let some crazy lady near enough to me to hurt me.
So I think everyone’s a little too uptight, but they aren’t my dogs and aren’t gonna be, so I go along. Plus, the idea of taking the baby gate down and not having newspapers down REALLY appeals to me (hey, I have no bathroom right now- it just isn’t right that the dog can piss in the house and I can’t).
So I pick both dogs up from their foster homes this morning and take them to the vet (only for a canine do I wake at 7 a.m.), because DARE paying a vet bill will apparently legally establish ownership. Both dogs have hookworm (which people can get but only if you roll in infected dog shit) and whipworm. I now have to get my dogs checked for whipworms (heartworm medicine prevents hookworms but not the other), and so do the other two foster homes. If my dogs test positive, Gri-Gri and my parents’ dog will have to get tested as well. Both parasites are fatal to dogs (if untreated).
Tell me again why this woman thinks she deserves these dogs?
I gotta go across town and take a shower. As long as I don’t run into Ace Ventura along the way, I guess I’m safe.