That’s right, I smell like a wet dog, a dirty, happy, shedding, wet dog.
As you might remember, we’ve had some trouble keeping the pooch at home. We thought that our problems were over. We, at great expense, had pruchased the whiz-bang, super neato, fully optioned, invisible fencing system from our nearest big box home improvement store.
The combination of traditional fence and the “zapper”, as it came to be known, cranked up to the point of causing me worry for the future health of the neighborhood children, seemed to be working fairly well. Puppy dog seemed content within his space, just as long as he didn’t get too close to the fence.
But my husband and I had a dream. A dream of no visible fence. We thought the first best thing to do would be to start reducing the power on the fence. It also bothered me to see the dog hesitate when getting near the fence. I wanted him to be happy and carefree. It’s hard to know the true mind of a dog.
So last night, we turned down the fence. We didn’t turn it off, just down. According to the literature that comes with the fence, the dog shouldn’t have noticed. We ate our dinner, bid the dog a good night, and went to bed.
When I woke up this morning, no dog. At first I thought he might be asleep in the huge clump of daylillies where he likes to hide. Nope, he was gone. So I head out into the knee high wet lawn (did I mention both of our lawn mowers are broken?) calling for him. No dice.
Soaked to my knees I return to the house to wake my husband and tell him the good news. He was more than thrilled. I got in the truck to go check out doggie jail while hubby dressed for the search. No luck at the pound, though there was a black dog with floppy ears I thought about loading up as part of my own doggie exchange program. “Hello, City pound? My dog ran away this morning so I stopped by and got another one, just give my dog to the people who come looking for the cute black one with floppy ears, we named him Rex.”
I returned home dogless. We did some more searching until we both had to leave for work. It was decided that hubby would alert the proper authorities to the disappearance when they were available.
I got in the truck and headed through town. When I stopped at the sign leading to the town square, I saw my dog. Lying down beside the road right in front of the courthouse. At first I thought that he might have been hit. I was sick and frightened. Then he turned around, in order to get more comfortable, I presume. Now I was mad. I pulled over and grabbed him by the collar and pulled him toward the truck. He knew he was in deep shit, he just went limp. It was about then I noticed that he was completely soaked.
I’m sure several people had a good time watching me lift a wet German Shepard-Chow mix, at the height of his Spring shedding (his soft underfur comes out in huge, now wet clumps) into the back of a Suburban almost completely full of empty moving boxes. Nobody in that truck was happy. Not me. Not the wet dog.
I go back home while calling my husband to help me get the dog back into his area, there was no way in hell he was getting loose again. Oddly enough he was already on his way, he had received a report of out little fugitive sitting in front of the cafe a few minutes before.
When we got him corralled again, we turned the fence back up. I only had time to changed my shirt before I had to leave. So I smell like a wet dog.