Around our house, the weekend went to the dogs – literally.
Oh, we started with good intentions (well, sort of good intentions) of completing a few things on our to-do list: Let’s see, we were going to clean up the cars, give the bathroom shower a good scrubbing and make some progress on unpacking a couple of boxes in the garage.
Things went awry almost immediately, though, when Jenny and I got home from work Friday and decided we were too tired to cook. We thought we deserved a trip to Vainisi’s for one of Frank’s white-sauce pizzas.
It was dusk by the time we turned into our driveway. There, crouched in the drainage ditch, was a very small brown-and-white dog.
She cowered as we approached. No collar. That’s a bad sign, I thought.
We never see a small dog loose because their owners keep them inside. A small dog with no collar usually means it has been dumped in the neighborhood.
“We can’t leave her out here at the street. She’ll get run over,” Jenny said. “We need to find out if she belongs to someone.”
I scooped up the dog, which was so small she laid on my hand and wrist. A neighbor said she thought she had seen a child with a small dog at a house down the street. The house was dark, but we knocked on the door. No answer.
“She can’t live here because they wouldn’t go off for the night and leave a dog this small outside,” I said.
Jenny tried another house, while I went back and leashed up our terrier, Huey, and beagle, Molly, for their evening walk around the neighborhood. Jenny found an old cat collar and another leash for our guest.
Shortly after we got back, the little dog curled up in the sunroom with our dogs while we watched television. Soon, she was in Jenny’s lap.
We decided we would put up some “found dog” signs in the neighborhood on Saturday. (One time while we were living in Alabama, that had worked with a cat that started hanging out at our house.)
Saturday morning our doorbell rang and it was a man from down the street. He had heard we had found a dog and said it belonged to his daughter. He said he would need to fix some holes in his back fence.
We were relieved because we were getting ready to head out to the vet’s office with Molly. We had an appointment for her annual shots.
But that’s not the end of our dog weekend. When we got home, Ian McKee, the Gazette’s graphics and technology guru, called to ask if I knew whose dog was in the conference room at the newspaper.
It turns out Sports Editor Elizabeth Zaremba had rescued a stray Thursday night and taken it to the vet for a checkup. She had to retrieve the dog before noon, but was covering softball at the Sportsplex. No dogs allowed.
Jenny and I volunteered to babysit the little dog for the afternoon. The dog went to sleep on our couch. So did I.
Sunday afternoon was my first chance to work on my to-do list. It was a little late in the weekend to start any project, I told myself. Maybe next weekend.
We’re hoping the dog days of summer have come and gone.
T. Wayne Mitchell, publisher of the Gazette, can be reached by phone at 662-534-6321 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.