Saturday, 21 April 2012

Where Did He Get The Bagel


Louise was out on her bike the other day, riding on the path when she came upon a guy driving his pick up. This path is strictly for bikes and pedestrians, and really pretty difficult to access in a truck, but this guy managed somehow. When Louise got up to him she said "Did you get turned around somehow?" In Louise speak, that is "Get the hell off of the bike path!"

The guy looked at her and said in his best panic/pleading voice, "Have you seen a little black dog? If you do, could you hold him for me?" With that, he drove off.

I kind of hope that he found his dog, but it has been my experience that most dogs don't just stick to the sidewalks and bike paths, they are more adventurous than that. When we first brought Buster home he took off at the first opportunity and the only way we got him back was to entice him into the car with meat. I kind of felt like a doggy pervert, "Hey there little doggy, I'll give you some meat if you get in the car." I kept gates shut and doors latched after that and kept a weather eye on him whenever there was the possibility that he might just be able to escape.

He was pretty good and never even attempted an escape or even really looked in the direction of freedom for several months after the initial escape. One day I was out clearing the snow and for some reason I needed to go into the back yard. I was pretty sure that we had broken Busters will and it was about 30 below, so I didn't even think that Buster would come outside, but he did. I had left the gate open and when I turned around I saw Buster standing in the open gate. We looked at each other for a few seconds and then I called his name. His ears pricked up, he looked me in the eye and turned around showing me his ass for a few seconds and then took off. I figured he had just called me an asshole in dog, but I wanted him back anyways.

I started to run after him, but by the time I got to the sidewalk he was no where to be found. I figured that since it had just snowed I would be able to track him by his...tracks. I don't know if everyone knows the comic strip "Family Circus", but they would often feature a strip with a dotted line that wound around the whole neighbourhood indicating where the kids went. 

That is the kind of trail that I was following. It was hopeless!

I would have to drive around like all of the losers that used to stop me on my mail route and asked if I had seen a large brown and white pitbull. "There's a pitbull loose! How did you let a pitbull get loose? Are you nuts? Where do you live?"

The guy asked if  "Would I bring him back if I found him?"

"You're nuts! I am going to call the pound; and your street doesn't get mail today!" I wasn't afraid of dogs, I just have a healthy respect for animals with sharp teeth that eat meat. I am after all made of meat.

I got in the car and drove around the block a few times, and eventually I found him eating something by the sandbox in a kids playground. I opened the door and called his name. He got up with the something in his mouth, ran to the car, jumped over me, and sat in the back seat eating a bagel. I was pretty relieved that I found Buster without too much difficulty and I probably only lost three or four years of my life from the stress. My only question was, "Where did he get the bagel?"

Louise should have told the guy in the pick up to try looking for the dog at Tim Horton's or one of the other coffee shops.




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