The mutt is missing. I came home to a gate down, all my doors shut and locked (I keep the back door open for him to roam while I'm gone). I am trying not to panic,I think he must be downstairs where it's cooler, walk down the stairs and no mutt. Ok, I must have shut the door when I left, not thinking and left him outside, he is no where to be found. The dog is gone. I don't know what to do, who to call, do I drive around the neighborhood looking? I'm standing at my front door panicked and frozen. What the fuck else is going to happen to me?
Then 3 little boys some around my corner and ask if I got the note about my dog. No, I say, do you know where he is? They found her (he is an very old man so the thought of him being confused for a girl made me smile inside) wandering around the pond. Called the number on his tag.
We got Bear from St Francis of Assisi animal shelter. He was supposed to be a foster dog for a week-end. Our first time fostering. We had hoped to play with a puppy for a week-end, instead we got an old mutt who they named Coke because his fur was the color of coke a cola. We were disappointed but thought what the heck, he was kinda cute. He was so incredibly sweet and obedient. He was happy to be with a family and our other dogs Charlie (another incredibly sweet girl that we adopted, but, that's another story) and very very old mutt Barney (that's another story) appeared to like him, that's always a good sign.
A friend of mine fell in love with Coke. She couldn't take him right away so we held on to him. We became very attached to the mutt that was the "perfect" dog in every way. I told her we decided to keep him, we paid the 100 fee and renamed him Larry. He later became Bear, because he looked like Little Bear from a PBS series that we watched.
As loyal and loving as he was, he was a wanderer. He would jump the fence he become friends with several different families on his several times of jumping the fence and taking walks. Luckily with the mutt came a set of tags that had St Francis's number along with a number that will forever be attached to him. These friendly families would call, tell us that St Francis gave them our number, which they got from the dog that was laying out on their front steps. Could we please come get him?
And we would. He was always excited to see us. I swear he would clap his paws together and laugh when we would walk up the sidewalk. I can't imagine what kind of family he had before us. He was such a great dog they had to have been good to him. I think of them as always wondering what happened to their wonderful wandering dog.
He was a costly mutt as well. After a torn tendon that cost almost 1000 bucks then a broken leg (that's another story) that was almost 1500 buck a roos, we decided this was a mutt that needed health insurance, and we purchased it. The best 26 a month we ever spent. He continued to be the wounded wandering mutt and the vet knew him well.
Bear was my dog, always at my side, obeyed and loved me unconditionally. Anyone could see it was my side he was attached to. I don't understand to this day why he chose me out of the family to love as much as he did. When I moved from my family there was no question he would come with me. As much of a pain as he is, he has been much comfort to me.
I don't know how old he is. We were told he was 2 or 3 in 2001. There is no way that mutt is 9 or 10, I swear he has to be at least 13 or 14. His eyes are cloudy, he falls down sometimes and can't get up. I keep thinking some day I will come home or wake up to a curled up permanently sleeping mutt.
We make quite the pair at the rest stops when we travel back to MN. He can't get in or out of the car himself any more. It's easy for me to get him out with me as the spotter, but the getting back in is when the team work starts. He'll eye me and I can hear him say "ok, give me a minute" pacing in circles and stopping at the back of my truck several times, looking up at me with a "are you ready" look in his eyes. I will tap the back of the truck, say "come on Bear baby we can do this". He smiles and walks to my side, I lift his front paws and move to his rear. I left his back legs and rear up and he moves forward an into the truck. Always happy there wasn't any dropping involved and relieved we did it again.
No, he's not dead. The little boys said they called the number, was given my address and they came and hung out with him for an hour, hoping I would come home. When I didn't they called the police. Officer Clayton came, found my back door open, wandered through, left a card and locked my doors, taking the mutt with him. I found his card on my dining room table. I called and talked to the woman at the front desk. She informed me the mutt was at the animal shelter which is now closed. He is spending the night in a cage, probably wondering what the hell is going on. All he did was take a little walk for Gods sake.
1 comment:
God speed, beloved mutt!
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