Or, better stated where do canines come from?
Back in the day, way back when I was young and fresh -- I didn't really find commitment appealing. I was living the casual life -- taking weekend trips, being spontaneous, doing my thing. On one average day of many other average days -- or at least a day I do not recall -- things changed. I lived in a little bungalow at Silver and Cherry with some fabulous neighbors with the last name of Greenleaf, I think. I don't know where they are now -- but they were good neighbors then. Liz was my fabulous and funny roommate -- she was a student and very busy. Lots of funny stories there, but that is for another time.
On this average day, I was coming home from work. It was in October. It must of been late, because I remember it being dark, so it's possible I had been somewhere between work and home. Well, not possible, very probable. So, I am driving along and there is a big white and black dog in the middle of the intersection at Silver and Cherry -- and he is not moving and just staring at me. I stepped out of my car and I said "Hey big guy.....Whatcha doing out here in the street?" He kind of cocked his head and walked past me and jumped in the car.
Nuff said, I guess.
So, I got in and drove around the corner to my home, brought him inside. Now, understand, I was not looking for a dog. My roommate was not looking for a dog. And, in fact, my landlords did not want us to have pets.
But, there was this big skinny cow dog standing there looking at me and then staring at the window sill. Not just staring. Pointing. What the ...... Holy moley -- he wanted my rubber duckie and was happily pointing right at it. I gave it to him and he happily chomped on it while I made him some vegetable textured protein (I was a vegetarian at the time) and called the pound to find his owner. Some guy named Gustave, the pound lady said. So, I called Gustave who was really named Steve or something like that (I believe the fake name was because he was a pound dog hoarder). Anyway, I called Gustave and said I have your dog --
(Now, before I got on, I need to tell you that Liz showed up during this textured protein/rubber duckie time and took one look at the hound I had and smartly proclaimed "well, clearly we have a Henry on our hands).
.... And Gustave said (stay with me here)..... "Oh, you must mean Grey --- he escapes all the time. Do you want to keep him?" Well, first I thought ..... clearly this dog is not Grey -- he's Henry and of course I DO NOT WANT A DOG. Clearly and fully, I was not a dog person. So, I took Gustave/Steve's address loaded up Henry/Grey and took him home! Not my problem!
Well, the next morning and I was just consumed with worry about Henry (please note that at this point, there was no "Grey" left in my head). Gustave/Steve lived in a little apartment with a thousand other dogs he had "rescued" from the pound. I told Liz I was worried about Henry. I told my boyfriend Eric I was worried about Henry -- but there was nothing I could do. Not my dog, not my problem. So, that night, still feeling like something was wrong with the universe, Eric and I were sitting in the living room and I was telling him again about Henry. I think he was about to tell me we should call Gustave/Steve when we heard this little jingle jingle outside the window..... I opened the front door and Grey turned into Henry and he was at home. Not to say he never ran again, but he was home. And he stayed with me for a very very long time............
Back in the day, way back when I was young and fresh -- I didn't really find commitment appealing. I was living the casual life -- taking weekend trips, being spontaneous, doing my thing. On one average day of many other average days -- or at least a day I do not recall -- things changed. I lived in a little bungalow at Silver and Cherry with some fabulous neighbors with the last name of Greenleaf, I think. I don't know where they are now -- but they were good neighbors then. Liz was my fabulous and funny roommate -- she was a student and very busy. Lots of funny stories there, but that is for another time.
On this average day, I was coming home from work. It was in October. It must of been late, because I remember it being dark, so it's possible I had been somewhere between work and home. Well, not possible, very probable. So, I am driving along and there is a big white and black dog in the middle of the intersection at Silver and Cherry -- and he is not moving and just staring at me. I stepped out of my car and I said "Hey big guy.....Whatcha doing out here in the street?" He kind of cocked his head and walked past me and jumped in the car.
Nuff said, I guess.
So, I got in and drove around the corner to my home, brought him inside. Now, understand, I was not looking for a dog. My roommate was not looking for a dog. And, in fact, my landlords did not want us to have pets.
But, there was this big skinny cow dog standing there looking at me and then staring at the window sill. Not just staring. Pointing. What the ...... Holy moley -- he wanted my rubber duckie and was happily pointing right at it. I gave it to him and he happily chomped on it while I made him some vegetable textured protein (I was a vegetarian at the time) and called the pound to find his owner. Some guy named Gustave, the pound lady said. So, I called Gustave who was really named Steve or something like that (I believe the fake name was because he was a pound dog hoarder). Anyway, I called Gustave and said I have your dog --
(Now, before I got on, I need to tell you that Liz showed up during this textured protein/rubber duckie time and took one look at the hound I had and smartly proclaimed "well, clearly we have a Henry on our hands).
.... And Gustave said (stay with me here)..... "Oh, you must mean Grey --- he escapes all the time. Do you want to keep him?" Well, first I thought ..... clearly this dog is not Grey -- he's Henry and of course I DO NOT WANT A DOG. Clearly and fully, I was not a dog person. So, I took Gustave/Steve's address loaded up Henry/Grey and took him home! Not my problem!
Well, the next morning and I was just consumed with worry about Henry (please note that at this point, there was no "Grey" left in my head). Gustave/Steve lived in a little apartment with a thousand other dogs he had "rescued" from the pound. I told Liz I was worried about Henry. I told my boyfriend Eric I was worried about Henry -- but there was nothing I could do. Not my dog, not my problem. So, that night, still feeling like something was wrong with the universe, Eric and I were sitting in the living room and I was telling him again about Henry. I think he was about to tell me we should call Gustave/Steve when we heard this little jingle jingle outside the window..... I opened the front door and Grey turned into Henry and he was at home. Not to say he never ran again, but he was home. And he stayed with me for a very very long time............
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