Doggone Dog

Mike and I were working in the yard last night when a cute, friendly little terrier puppy found his way to our gate. He didn’t have a collar on, so we looked around to see if his owners were around, but didn’t see anyone. We went to a neighbor’s house to see if she knew who he belonged to, and it turned out he lives a couple of houses away. When we went to the house, we found that it was under construction and that no one was home. I, of course, had already fallen in love with the little guy, and suggested we take him home and keep him. If his owners couldn’t be bothered to keep him safe and secure, they don’t deserve such a great dog!

The neighbor gave us a couple of dog treats she gives to her dog, and off we went to our house. We gave him some water and, after trying on a few names, decided to call him Rey (“king” in Spanish). He’s a regal sort of dog, with golden hair with reddish highlights, and it suited him perfectly. Mike went to the store to get Rey some food and treats, and we spent the rest of the night adoring our new little puppy, discussing next steps. Should we leave a note for the owners saying “we found your dog?” Should we wait to see if they put up signs? Could we just keep him and not tell anyone? All the while, I had visions of a bad sitcom, where the little kid falls in love with a dog he found, only to have the owners come to take the dog back. In the sitcom, the kid is crushed, but wants to do right by the dog, so he sends the dog off, saying “Now you have two homes. I’ll always love you, doggie!”

At the end of the night, we bedded the dog down in the bathroom with his food and water and a towel to lay on. I woke up this morning and took him outside, and we sat on the steps in the sun and I rubbed his belly for what seemed like an eternity. We came inside and I laid on the couch to watch some tv and he laid next to me contentedly. It was great.

When Mike went outside to finish working on the garden, Rey slipped away, through the front fence and onto the street. He trotted around the block, down the alley, and back to his home. Mike followed him and talked to the who guys who were there, who confirmed that he’s their dog. He then came back and told me the bad news– we no longer are the proud pet parents of the cutest little terrier in the world.

In the sitcom, this is where they’d roll the credits.