I hope your dog never runs away. If your dog ever does run away, I hope I'm the one who finds it. And if I am the one who finds it, I hope your dog doesn't have some complicated, pain-in-the-ass ID tag recovery system, forcing me to jump through all sorts of hoops in order for me to return said dog to your loving arms.
Last week, Robinson and I were enjoying a nice, long stroll through the neighborhood, when I notice a big, black puppy scampering in my direction, clearly AWOL. It looks like a black lab, and it looks to be about six months old--so it's basically all lanky legs, and "it" appears to be a "she" based on the pink collar she's wearing. I scan my perimeter, expecting to see somebody running frantically towards me with a leash, struggling to catch up with this boisterous pup (it's happened before), but it's just the three of us: Rob, puppy, and me. I pause my iPod (I was listening to "Love Today" by Mika) and I'm able to read the tags on her collar. This is a delicate task with an excited dog, because you have to have a firm enough grasp in order to read the tags, but if you're not careful, the pup can pull out of her collar and then you're standing there holding a collar while the dog gallops off into the distance without her identifying information and you're stuck feeling like a jerk. Then there's the whole, "not wanting to get bitten by a strange dog" thing.
I should back up for a minute and say that I have a lot of experience picking up and returning other people's dogs. I would estimate that one out of every three times I go for a walk, I catch, rescue, return, or otherwise wrangle somebody else's dog. Sometimes I take the dog back to my house and dog sit all day, sometimes I load the dog into my car and drive him home. It varies.
No big deal, right? The puppy is wearing a tag. I'll just dial the number and tell the person who answers that I have their puppy and all will be fine, right? First of all, this was not your typical dog tag that says "LANEY" in big block letters with a phone number beneath it. It was a yellow plastic tag that displayed a 1-866- number in raised yellow numbers (so not easy to read on a squirmy puppy), and beneath it, instead of a name, is a ten-digit alpha-numeric ID. And me without my glasses! Perfect. Good thing I applied the parking break to my stroller and Robinson is content (must not forget baby, right?) because I have to dial a phone number while reading this hard-to-read tag and not lose my grip of this puppy who is growing more fidgety by the second.
After much maneuvering, I manage to dial the number:
THEN I have to wait while it rings
THEN I have to listen to a lengthy, automated message with a menu
THEN I select "English"
THEN I listen to another automated message, this time an advertisement
"Are you f*$#!ng kidding me?" I ask the puppy. She doesn't reply.
THEN I select "Report a found pet"
THEN I have to wait while it rings
THEN somebody finally answers
I'm still holding the dog, remember? It's a good thing this is a friendly puppy. If this dog were some kind of bratty mutt, it would have bitten me by now and I would have said "Forget this!" But I can't do that. I have this unstoppable compulsion to "save" every dog I see. For all my bitching, I wouldn't be able to sleep at night had I not done this.
So anyway, I'm finally speaking to a human, and he sounds like Chris Griffin from Family Guy. I decide that he looks like Chris Griffin from Family Guy also. I will picture Chris Griffin in my mind for the rest of the conversation.
Me: Hi, I found a puppy, I better read her ID to you before she wiggles out of my grasp again.
Chris Griffin: OK...
Me: [reading off ten digit alpha-numeric] D as in dog, F as in Frank, M as in Mary, 5,7...
Chris Griffin: Ok...[reading, verifies and collects info from me] She goes by "Candy".
Me: That's funny, because she looks like a "Candy".
I'm looking down at her like, "Oh, so you 'go by' Candy, do ya? I suppose when you reach adulthood you'll insist everyone call you 'Candice'."
Me: So, um...how do we proceed? I have a baby in a stroller, a dog with no leash, no owners in sight, and I'm about a half a mile from my house. Attempting to tote this dog around could get cumbersome.
Chris Griffin: I can place you on hold and call the owners...
Me: I think that's a great idea.
I'm placed on hold for at least a minute. If the owners had just used an ordinary ID tag with their dog's name and phone number instead of using this elaborate "pet recovery system" I could have called them five minutes ago. Then I begin to wonder--are they weird paranoid people who are afraid for their dog to wear a tag bearing their phone number? Do they think somebody will find their roaming dog and use that information to hold the dog ransom, become a psycho stalker, or steal their identity? Seriously, what's the deal? As I'm crafting theories about Candy's owners, Chris Griffin returns to the line.
Chris Griffin: Ok, they didn't answer, so I left a voicemail.
Me: Alright...[awkward silence] So...where do we go from here?
Chris Griffin: If you are unable to retain custody of the pet until they are recovered by their owner, you can call your nearest veterinary hospital, and they will--
Me: Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I'll simply fashion a leash out of my iPod earbuds and we'll trot on back to my house until her owner's call me.
Chris Griffin: [pause] Oh, were you being serious?
Me: Completely.
So, Chris and I say our goodbyes and as I begin to walk Candy down the street towards home, a middle-aged man is frantically running towards me. He thanks me, and attempts to walk/carry her home. I don't tell him that his "pet recovery system" is a cluster f*$# of unspeakable proportions. After all, he did recover his pet, didn't he?
Wow....hey eventually you'll start bringing in strays off the street like we do now and question your own sanity.
ReplyDeletewhat the heck on the pet recovery system.