This is an email I sent to my supervisor one day about why I didn’t show up for work.  8/27/2006

My horse, Mel, hurt his foot – big gouge – ugly. I’ve had to wash it out the last two nights. The vet is coming today at 1:00 and I need to be there so he can tell me how to take care of it.

I was going to come in half the day but on the way home last night at 8:30, there was a small Beagle standing in the middle of the road and it wouldn’t move. When I stopped to keep from hitting her, she came around and wanted in the truck. So I got out and, since she had a collar and tag, decided I would take her home and call the vet in the morning to find out where she belonged.

As I started to drive away, a BIG Golden Retriever appeared and started following the truck. He, too, wanted in.  I tried to just shoo him away to no avail. I’m telling you this dog was the size of a miniature horse. I had visions of “Homeward Bound” and thought the two dogs must have been together, because the Golden was insisting on coming too.

So, I’m out in the middle of the road trying to get this dog in the bed of the truck. He wouldn’t jump up and was too heavy for me to lift. So, I made room in the extended cab area and opened the door for the dog to climb in. He put his front two feet up and wouldn’t budge. It took all I could muster to heft his hind end in.

Both were very sweet, affectionate dogs. I put them in the garage for the night – had no food, but gave them water. I went out once to check on them and the Golden pushed his way into the house – he actually bowled me over. It took both me and my son to get him pushed back out into the garage.

So, this morning I called the vet and found out the name of the Beagle’s owner. I called her and she gave me directions to her house so I could drop the dog off. Unfortunately, she said she didn’t have a Golden Retriever. I put the dogs in the truck and started out just as it began to rain. I took the Beagle home and the owner was waiting on the porch. The Beagle jumped right out – happy to be home. The Golden followed. I asked if she recognized the Golden and she said he looked familiar and might belong in the neighborhood. She asked where I found her dog and I told her. She said, “Oh, I know who owns the Golden, she lives in the house on that corner.” She gave me directions.

Guess what, the dog was just outside his yard when I picked him up!! I didn’t rescue him, I dog-napped him!!

I took the Golden home and knocked on the door (after running to the porch in the pouring rain). No answer. The Golden was in the truck. He wasn’t interested in being home. I went back to the truck and decided to just leave the dog, but he didn’t want to get out of the truck. I opened the passenger door and tried to push him out – no way. I went around to the passenger side and pulled him from the truck but before I could get around and get back in – he did. Again I tried to pull him from the truck and he went into the extended cab area.

I went back to the porch and knocked again. Still no answer. I was starting to think it was the wrong house when I looked down and found a rope and collar on the porch. So I took the collar (the tag read “Sonny”) and put it on the dog and dragged him from the truck, barely getting the door shut before he could get back in. Guess Sonny isn’t too happy at home. And I guess he is fat from not getting enough exercise, rather than sitting on his owner’s lap being fed Bon Bons.

I left him tied on the porch and came home. I told the story to my husband and he said, “So, you don’t really know that that is where he lives, then. The people might come home to find a strange dog tied to the porch.” We both started laughing.   In the end, I wound up soaking wet, smelling of dog and exhausted. So much for being a good Samaritan.


There’s a monster in my closet

I arose this morning to the second alarm.  I let Andre out to relieve himself and took care of my business.  Then I went into the closet to gather my clothes for the day, when I saw a HUGE spider climbing up one of my blouses.  It’s a good thing I had already taken care of business because this thing was as big and black as Andre’s nose (a miniature tarantula).  I left the closet to try to find something to kill it with.  My husband and son tell me not to kill spiders because they eat other bugs.  If I insist, they pick them up and carry them outside. However, if they had seen this sucker, they would have killed it too.

Fly swatter?  Too small.  Shoe?  I would have to get too close.  So, I grabbed the shop vac and attached the extension tube and went back to the closet.  He wasn’t on the blouse any more.  Fear ran up my spine.  Then I saw him on the clothes rod.  I turned on the vac, which is pretty loud, and of course he started to move.  My adrenalin kicked in and I aimed the hose.  I’m pretty sure I got him because I heard a thump in the tube, but just to be sure, I decided to run the vac on the floor under the clothes.  If you’ve never used a shop vac, they are way more powerful than a sweeper, and the hose is a lot bigger in diameter.  I accidentally sucked up a pair of footies.  But that’s okay, I figure they pushed the monster all the way down.

The shop vac has two outlets – one for sucking and one for blowing.  I inserted the end of the hose into the blowing outlet.  Now if the monster is still alive and tries to climb out, he will go right back into the vac.  I told myself that the vac is sealed really well because it also sucks up water, but even so, I rolled the vac out onto the deck.  Hopefully the monster will freeze.I managed to get ready for work, but after that adrenalin rush, I was pooped.  I hate to admit it, but  I’m afraid to go back into the closet.