My One Night Stand

3 01 2011

This weekend I had a one night stand.  And my husband stopped talking to me.  But we worked it out.  I sent the new boy on his way.  Funny because even when my husband wasn’t talking to me, he was willing to roll around on the floor with and scratch the belly of my dalliance.

On Saturday afternoon, I looked out the window to see a Basset Hound sauntering up our street, by himself.  I knew I had to go outside and call him.  I am not allowed to let any loose dog just walk by without at least making an effort to help him/her.  This is not a rule from my years in animal welfare.  It is actually my sister’s rule.  She made it up when we were young and although I always thought my father was going to kill her, she brought home plenty of dogs, cats and ducks in her day.

The thing about me trying to catch the dog on New Year’s Day, when we had dinner guests due in a couple of hours, I knew it was a low risk proposition.  The truth is I can NEVER catch dogs.  I can often catch stray cats.  I even caught a stray ferret one time (and then had to transport it in my car with my three dogs).  But I can NEVER catch dogs, really.  Okay, there was the Chihuahua I caught one day on my way from work (at the animal shelter) to getting my hair cut.  It was sleeping in the middle of an intersection.  It still gave me a run for my money.  Later I found out if was 16-yrs-old, blind and deaf.  But, like I said, I just barely caught the nasty sweet old guy.

What I didn’t take into consideration was this wasn’t any old dog, it was a scent hound.  When I opened my garage door and he smelled our garbage can – cat litter, cheddar bunnies and dirty diapers – nothing was going to stop him from coming in.

So in he came.  Turns out he was a handsome, young, purebred, male (and unfortunately unneutered).  He was great with my dog, fine with my cats, loved the kids and as long as he could be close to a human he was quiet.

What’s not to love? Okay, the testicles, but that can be taken care of.

PJ kept hearing me call him a Basset HOUND and decided to name him Pound.  We changed it to Pounder and it fit perfectly.  I took him to the emergency vet clinic to have him scanned for a micro-chip.  The woman working there was soooooo stupid and I offended her, so she wasn’t going to do me any favors.  She scanned him with a scanner that said “low battery.”  Here is the thing about scanners, if they say low battery they Do. Not. Work. At. ALL.  I might as well have been waving my beer bottle above his back.  So I brought him home, put a posting on Craig’s List and then just had to wait.

I think part of the reason SAG was so mad is because he really misses having a big dog.  When PJ was born, just 2 ½ years ago we had four dogs.  But we lost our 11 ½ yr-old boxer to cancer/old age in March 2009.  We lost our 16-yr-old border collie mix to old age in January 2010.  And we lost our 8-yr-old mutt to a neurological problem and a bad attitude last June.  That leaves us with Scolly, a 3-yr-old, 8 lbs mutt.  We love him, but dog is sort of a strong word for a creature smaller than each and every one of our cats.

Making himself at home, Pounder decides the coffee table is the perfect place to relax.

I really liked Pounder but I am not naïve when it comes to dogs.  So when he was in our house he was on leash.  When it came time to go to bed, SAG went in our room with Little Dude and Scolly.  I set up the pull out bed, tied Pounder to the side of it and let the cats crawl in the other side.  Despite being a Basset Hound, Pounder managed to jump on the bed.  No problem with me, as long as he didn’t mess with the cats.  A few minutes later he was restless and started rustling around by my shoulder.  “What are you doing?”  I asked.  And then I remembered all my years of sharing a bed with boxers.  Of course, he was trying to get under the covers.  I lifted up the blankets and in he went.  He circled around, cuddled up and we spooned all night.

The next morning I got up early and got ready to head to the “closed on Sundays” animal shelter.  I wasn’t sure if they would have a gate at the top of their driveway so I wanted to be there when the staff arrived.  Turns out they were already hard at work, but there was no gate.  So I went with my back-up plan, assuming they employed at least one smoker.  I drove around back and sure enough, there she was, outside, smoking.  I am anti-smoking except when it comes to gaining access to a building.  You can always find a smoker just outside the back door.  The staff was actually very kind.  I told them I had been in their shoes many times having worked for five different animal welfare organizations.  I got Pounder out of the van, wished him luck and they took him on his way.

I hope Pounder’s original owners find him… but not for a few days.  I would like him to become the legal property of the shelter first so they can neuter him.  If not, I am sure he will get adopted quickly.  I just hope whoever takes him home is prepared to share their bed.

I miss working in animal welfare.  I miss having a large dog.  But I love my husband.  So I won’t be visiting the shelter again until our family is ready to take on that responsibility.  See you in 2013.




5 responses

3 01 2011

Wow… that WAS a good looking dog. I learned much from this post… like gaining access to buildings using carcinogens and that a family w/ 2 little kids (the eldest being 2.5yrs old now) will be ready for a big dog in 2013. Would that be January of 2013? ‘Cause I’ve really been wondering when we’ll be ready for one and using your time-line is as good as any 🙂 Of course, if you get one sooner (’cause you DO catch dogs, despite your claims to the contrary), keep us posted and we can follow suit.

4 01 2011

Pounder is a beautiful thing. Of course he’s not a big dog, but he’s not a small dog, either. Small dog makes me think, usually, of high energy. Unneutered? No wonder he is wandering the streets, looking for love. I have a medium sized rat terrier, she is a bundle of raw energy, an absolute handful. Now that she is more grown up at over three years old, I see a big dog in our future. I love a big dog, it makes me feel safer in the world. So. Being a dog catcher, maybe not your calling, but it seems like Pounder landed in the right hands.

4 01 2011

Oh my! He is so stinken cute. I wan’t to take him home, and I don’t even want (or have any business getting) a dog right now.

5 01 2011

Oh Pounder. I love having a big dog but he gets underfoot a lot as he’s getting more senile. We’re going to take a little dog break eventually.

6 01 2011

okay: ‘what’s not to love? Okay, the testicles, but that can be taken care of’ may be my favourite line, ever.

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