Whoopsie Daisy.

Last week when I was finally feeling well enough to sit up for more than 13 seconds I decided to finally empty out our suitcases from Vegas that I’d been tripping over for the last week.  You see, now that I’m a stay at home wife the hubs has gotten very comfortable throwing his clothes on the floor and having full faith that the laundry gods will wash them, fold them and put them neatly away where they belong.  And dammit those laundry gods don’t disappoint.

It was so beautiful out that I decided to take the laundry outside to let it hang dry.  I’ve learned better than to put the hubs’ favorite clothes in the dryer because HE DOESN’T LIKE WHEN THEY SHRINK.  I mean seriously, I heard you the first three times I shrunk your clothes, I JUST FORGOT.

At lunchtime I was outside tending to the shirts that were NOT SHRINKING and the hubs was throwing the frisbee for Brady and my parents dog Toby.  Next thing I know this huge three legged dog hobbles through the neighbors bushes into our yard.  Brady was standing right next to the hubs so I told him to grab Brady and bring him inside while I ran after Toby.  By this time Toby has spotted the ginormous three legged dog and starts barking wildly and getting aggressive and circling the dog.  Being the quick fingers that I am I managed to grab Toby and bring him inside. 

After getting my dogs safely inside I went back out to see if the mondo-3 legged dog was wearing a collar.  No luck.  The dog ended up being really sweet and slurped down the bowl of water I brought him in 2 seconds flat.  I know pretty much every dog in the neighborhood from my 20 walks a day that Brady requires to keep sane, but this dog obviously didn’t get out  much, having three legs and all. 

I asked a neighbor who was out working in her yard if she had ever seen this dog and she said no.  What was I going to do?  I decided the best thing to do was call the humane society.  I wasn’t even sure how long this dog had been wandering.  No collar, seemingly heat exhausted and matted fur around his feet.  I couldn’t bring him inside ‘cause I couldn’t take the risk that Toby would go mental on him.

After going through about 23 different automated menus at the humane society the hubs finally left a message on their voice mail.  Meanwhile I had been sitting outside with three legs waiting for a response.  After an hour of sitting outside and sacrificing clean clothes that WERE NOT SHRUNK to the world’s largest lugie I had to leave to babysit.  What can I say?  KIDS ARE NEEDY. 

So I had to make the heart wrenching decision to just let him go on his way.  I know, I know, awful but you weren’t there so DON’T JUDGE ME.  About an hour after I left the hubs said the humane society finally called back, and he told him which way the dog had wandered.

That night I told my dad the story and he had this sad look on his face, an “how awful for that poor dog” look as he sympathized with me.  Even later that night I decide to tell my mom the story.  She responds with “oh that’s the dog that lives in the cul-de-sac.”

Neighbors, if you’re reading this (which I hope you aren’t) I hope you got your dog back from the humane society.  You really should put a collar on three legs.

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