Yesterday was crappy, as this whole week has been. All I wantedv to do was watch The Apprentice finale, quietly. To that end, I took the dog to the park to run after work. While there, we met some nice people, played some fetch, and had a grand old time right up until the little bastard bit me. Me! Literally, the hand that feeds him. All of the well-heeled owners of little, obedient, groomed dogs were horrified. What kind of dog bites its person! What kind of person has a dog that bites! I felt like the parent of an ugly, screaming child at an Anne Geddes photo shoot.
So I took the little asshole home. I tried to forget about my ungrateful mutt. Made dinner, sat down to watch The Donald, and tried to veg out completely and let me brain rest up for today.
Knock, knock, knock.
Who could be at my door, unannounced, during The Apprentice season finale? Certainly no friend of mine. I decided to ignore it.
Knock, knock, knock.
Crap. It was the little girl from next door, Kiki. Could I come into the back yard? She had something to show me.
So I put on my shoes and headed out. My heart sank like a stone the minute I saw; she had a little dog, a terrier, cowering under a table. That's Sunny, she said. I got him today.
The poor little guy had no food or water. He was obviously freaked out, hunkered down and growling. A coarse yellow rope was tied around his neck.
The yellow rope is really the most damning piece of evidence. Something about it screams trouble. Responsible pet owners don't generally tie twine around their puppy's necks to lead them around.
The remains of his dinner, some chopped up barbecue, were on the ground. From her station behind the kitchen window, Kiki asked me to untangle him from the table and tie him on the fence. Why one would need to tie a terrier up on a slab of concrete in a very small, completely fenced in yard is beyond me. Why I would need to do it, as opposed to Sunny's brand-new owner, was clear: She was afraid of him.
Through the window, she handed me a bowl of water. She said he'd already had plenty, but he drank about a pint as soon as I set it down. He had a towel, which I fluffed up for him. I thought about taking him in our house for the night, but depite his clean appearance I had no way of knowing if he'd had his shots, or was housetrained. So I set him up as best I could and headed inside.
Sunny was tied up close to Kiki's house, so I could hear every whine, yelp, howl, whimper, bark, and frightened yip he gave out. And let me tell you, there were many. I went out to check on him a few times, since he sounded like he was being killed, but it did no good. He had probably never been alone outside in his whole life, let alone in the dark and in a strange place. Hell, I'm scared of the alley that borders our back yard.
Eventually, many hours past my bedtime, my sister caught one of the adult neighbors coming home. As jocularly and brightly as possible at one in the morning, she said, Hey! Your little dog is really freaking out back there! Ha ha. And Sunny was magically allowed in the house.
I hope that's the end of the story but I don't know. I can't imagine who would let my neighbors dog-sit, so maybe Kiki's tale of buying Sunny at a pet shop are true. He was recently groomed and a little chubby. I don't relish the idea of calling the ASPCA on my neighbors, especially since they'd probably hear me do it through the walls, but neither am I willing to live next door to a neglected dog. Fortunately, it's illegal in DC to keep your dog outside without shelter so they'll take him if I do have to call.
But maybe I'm jumping the gun, and Sunny will have returned to wherever he came fom by the time I get home today. I really hope so. His little towel was still in the yard when I left this morning.