Tuesday, January 19, 2016

I had one job to do...

Last week my neighbor Bonnie went into the hospital to have knee replacement surgery. She and I have been walking our dogs together twice a week and so when I asked what I could do to help her out she asked me to walk her pug, Gibbs on Thursday and Friday. I told her no problem.

Thursday I spent considerable time pondering whether I should take Gibbs and Elliot on a walk together. Gibbs is deaf and partially blind and he pees about fifty times on a walk. Elliot likes to chase cars. I debated and decided that I could handle both. I left Elliot at home and went to get Gibbs first. Bonnie has a friend staying with her and that woman also has a pug who greeted me when I entered the house. She was barking and snorting and running circles around my feet while Gibbs lay on a piece of carpet sound asleep. I pet the other dog and got Gibbs' leash telling him it was time to take a walk. He never moved. Forgetting he was deaf, I called him again. Nothing. His eyes were closed and  he was out. I walked over to him and suddenly I got a bit worried. I mean here was this other dog making enough noise to wake the entire neighborhood and Gibbs wasn't even moving. Immediately, all sorts of thoughts went through my head: "the other dog has poisoned him, he is dead, he died of a broken heart because the family left him".

I went over and stood looking down at him for any sign of life like his back moving up and down as he breathed. Nothing. "Oh, my god, how has this happened? I had one job to do and the dog is dead and how am I going to explain this to Bonnie?" was all running through my head, but I leaned down and gently touched his head. He shot up on all four legs, his head spinning around in all directions, giving a little bark as he ran around the kitchen scared out of his mind. I shot up too, not expecting that, my heart racing, scared out of my mind, yelling, "Jesus!" at the top of my lungs. Once he realized I was there he ran immediately to the door, and I got his harness and leash on, apologized to the other dog for leaving him, and off we went to get Elliot. I was very relieved that he was not dead.

We started out on our walk. We didn't get past my driveway before Gibbs was peeing on our garbage can. He loves to investigate inanimate things along the curb like garbage cans, mail boxes, large shrubs, and the various objects people use to protect their sprinkler heads and he always pees on them. First he walks up very closely to get a good look through his almost blind eyes. Secondly, he sniffs the object and walks around it. Lastly, he turns his body around a couple of times and pees on the object.  When he is finished watering he digs in the ground with his paws kicking up dirt, sand, and grass and then he will start walking once again. The problem with all of that is he gets himself turned around in the opposite direction of where we are walking, and being partially blind he doesn't realize it. So he would start walking in the wrong direction while Elliot was walking in the right direction, and I stood in the road with my arms in either direction holding leashes.

Eventually I got them both in the correct direction and we would get a few inches down the road and Gibbs would find another object to water. He would go through his routine and when he was ready to start walking again Elliot would wonder what he had been doing and come back in the opposite direction to sniff where Gibbs had just watered. I thought we would never get through our twenty minutes of walking. When Gibbs pooped and I was trying to scoop it up he would be walking in the wrong direction. A car would inevitably come down the road and Elliot would try to take off running after it. I would be trying to shorten Elliot's leash, and trying to pull Gibbs back in the right direction, all without losing sight of the poop sure that the neighbor whose yard the deed had been done in was watching all of this out the window. I was an emotional wreck when it was all over, and I decided that I would not be bringing Elliot when I walked Gibbs on Friday.

On Friday it poured down rain. It didn't let up until almost 10:30 that morning and when it did I grabbed my raincoat and headed over to the neighbor's house. Her friend's van was missing from the driveway so I knew she wasn't there, assumed she was down south taking care of the work she is having done on her house, and since she usually takes her dog with her wasn't expecting her. But as soon as I opened the door to the house there was the other pug barking and snorting and running circles around me. I pet her again and talked to her and then I looked on the carpet. No Gibbs. I called him, remembered that he couldn't hear me, and walked further into the kitchen. I looked under the dining room table. I looked out on the porch. I peered into the master bedroom, picked up some poop that someone had deposited on the floor, but no Gibbs. I asked the other dog where he was, but she was so excited to see me she couldn't have a decent conversation. She did, however, follow me all through the house while I looked for Gibbs who was nowhere to be found. I stood in the kitchen at a loss and then I took a second look at the dog who was there.

Gibbs has a black face, but rarely looks up at people. This dog was older, had a gray face, and was always looking at me. I looked into her eyes to make sure I wasn't crazy and had the wrong dog, but I knew Gibbs wasn't gray. I also knew Gibbs didn't make all this noise that this dog was making.


I went out to the porch and opened the back door thinking maybe he had gone out the doggy door and was hanging out in the misty, wet rain. The other dog ran out past my legs and peed. I knew immediately that she was a girl by her stance and reassured myself this wasn't Gibbs. We went back inside and I locked up. I threw my hands into the air and shouted, "OMG! I had one job to do and now this dog is missing!" I texted Bonnie and told her I was at her house and while I had one dog I couldn't find her dog. I asked her if perhaps her husband had taken her to work with him that day or if he had a certain hiding place I didn't know about. Her response did not come until after I had returned home, and it made as much sense as a text from someone doped up on massive pain killers; none whatsoever. She told me that she wasn't sure if her husband had taken the dog out that morning to potty, but not to worry he could use the doggy door. Thanks so much for walking him. Huh? I finally came to the conclusion that her friend had gotten the two dogs confused and took Gibbs with her down south instead of taking her own dog.

The friend returned at some point in the day as did the husband, but since neither was running up and down the street shouting for Gibbs I figured he wasn't missing. I inquired the next day about his whereabouts, but Bonnie's husband had no clue. He told me that he hadn't taken him to work, but he couldn't imagine where Gibbs had been. He didn't seem to be too concerned either way, and when Gibbs came to the door to see who his master was talking to, he refused to give up the information, sauntered outside, and promptly peed on my shoe.

Thank god Bonnie is back home now.

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