The rescue

I was out of town on Saturday night, and when I returned on Sunday afternoon I opened the door of my house to find a strange dog trailing after my own dog. That is actually one of my nightmare scenarios, but I was on a tight schedule needing to get to my buddy's for the Steelers game, and so I vaguely listened to how the dog came to be in my house.

Darcy: "It was 9:00 this morning and some lady knocked on our door and said she found the dog down by the major road. She said she knew we had a dog, and when I opened the door the dog ran into the house, and so the lady thanked me and left."
Me: "What? Where was your father?"
Darcy: "He wasn't here."
Me: "Who was this lady?"
Darcy: "I have no idea. But she knew we had a dog."

The dog was some sort of terrior mix, about fifteen pounds, and reminded me of a lion. He had been groomed so that his body was closely shaved, but his head left mane-ish. He had large floppy ears, and a tail that never stopped wagging. The way in which he was groomed left his sex hanging very promptly, and so I named him Dong.

Darcy: "That's disgusting. And mean. His name is Tootsie."
Tom: "I named him Squeaky because he likes Elliot's toys."

I called him Dong. He had big floppy ears, and he would fall down and immediately and roll over for a belly scratch when you bent anywhere near him. I did not have time for that nonsense, being in a hurry, and so I did some ranting and raving about the mystery lady, and threatened to throw my entire family out of the house if they didn't get rid of the guy. Then I went to watch the Steelers game.

When I returned Dong was right beside Elliot to greet me at the front door. I sighed, and then proceeded to quiz my daughter again where I learned nothing new. My husband had posted the lost dog information on the sheriff's website, walked the dog around the neighborhood, knocked on several neighbor's doors, bought him a collar, and brushed out the burrs he had picked up in his travels. I called our resident neighbor who knows all the dogs in our subdivision, but he hadn't a clue. His wife suggested I call my neighbor across the street who belongs on the social media site Nextdoor where you can post information about happenings and such in your neighborhood. I called and she posted the information for me, and then when she received a suggestion to post to the county's animal control Facebook page she did that too.

Dong and Elliot had a small spat over something, both growling and nipping, but for the most part they got along fine. Elliot ignored the stranger, and spent the night doing a lot of sighing. Dong wandered around the house like an anxiety riddled person in search of something elusive. He did not attempt to sit or jump up on the furniture. He made sure, however, to mouth every one of Elliot's squeaky toys. He would get the toy and carry it around in his mouth for hours, dropping it to replace it with another toy when he got bored. If you tried to remove the toy, he would play tug of war. He always won that game because he would hang on to it until the toy would start to rip at the seams.

At night we put him in Elliot's crate. He whined a bit, but finally settled down and drifted off to sleep. Elliot did not come into our room to sleep that night like he normally does, preferring to keep an eye on the stranger in his home. The next morning Dong pooped on my carpet despite having done so on his morning walk. I immediately looked up the opening time of the county animal control center. This little guy had to find his family.

The center opened at nine. At 8:15 a.m. his owner called my house. He sounded nervous and began to describe the dog as if he had to prove it belonged to him. I didn't care, and stopped him mid sentence to tell him where I lived. This dog was his no matter what. I told Dong his daddy was on the way, and within four minutes the guy was at my door, both dogs standing and barking at him through the glass.

I was picturing a Lassie type of reunion once Dong saw his owner, but he didn't do anything more then what he did with us. He wagged his tail. He probably would have rolled over for a belly scratch, but the owner picked him up, shook my hand, and apologized. He went into a tale about the gate at his house, and how Dong and his other dog, a lab, had escaped on Saturday and had been recaptured. He seemed nervous as if I were judging him, which I was, but I was also thrilled that the dog was heading out of my house. So thrilled that when he removed Dong's brand new collar and handed it back to me I didn't give him the "leash your damn dog" lecture.

Dong turned out to be Sully. That alone convinced me someone liked the dog because his head did indeed resemble the character Sully from the movie Monster Inc. Of course, after the owner and Dong and Sully left I began thinking the owner guy had been awfully odd. He said they had only had the dog for two weeks, that he and his wife had another dog, and when I told him how much this dog loved toys, he told me they hadn't given him any toys. Uh? I decided he probably was looking after the dog because Dong Sully obviously was worth billions of dollars from an inheritance left by his former owner.

Needless to say, this has convinced me I do not need two dogs. It has convinced Elliot of the same thing. This morning when he was refusing to walk around the neighborhood he changed his mind as soon as a Dong-look-a-like strutted by with his owner. Elliot took off barking at the dog and owner all around the neighborhood. "Hit the road, buddy," he told them. "This is my territory." As for our daughter she is no longer allowed to answer the door.