I almost made it home from taking my son to school this morning without incident.
As I drove up the twisty winding curvy road that leads to the dead end gravel road that leads to our driveway, something caught my eye.
There, standing in the middle of a big curve was a beautiful little Corgi. At least I was fairly certain there was beauty under all that mud covered fur.
If road conditions had allowed me to be moving faster I likely would have hit him.
He looked scared and had every right to be considering where he was standing.
So what did I do? I stopped the truck, rolled down the window and yelled "Get off the road pup!"
The dog disappeared.
In a more perfect world that would be the end of the story, wouldn't it? I couldn't see where he had gone and feared he had only moved to one of the truck's several blind spots. Not wanting to risk hitting him. I knew I had to make sure he was out of the way.
It was 7:30 in the morning and the area was blanketed in a dense fog. Here I was, about to get out of the truck, which was now stopped smack dab in the middle of a narrow blind curve. I might also mention that I got a late start this morning, so I was still in my pajamas, having merely slipped a jacket on over them and stepped into a pair of loafers before I left the house.
If I were ever to make the Channel 5 news, I certainly hope it wouldn't be at a time when I was wearing pajamas! I said a prayer for safety and opened the door.
Little did I know it was an ambush! From out of nowhere the dog suddenly came bounding toward my open door. Before I could say, "Scat!" he jumped in with me and sat down on the floorboard right between my feet.
I tried to move him, but he seemed to take that as an invitation to get even closer and attempted to climb up into my lap.
Oh, and he stunk to high heaven!
I thought about putting him out, but he sat there looking up at me with pleading brown eyes. I could swear he was sending a subliminal message, "Are you my Mommy?"
I couldn't do it. Obviously he was not a stray. I thought about how I felt when my own dog was missing. I had to try to find this sweet Corgi's owners.
So, I drove the rest of the way home with the little dog sitting on the floorboard. I missed the turn onto our dead end gravel road because, as I discovered the hard way, he had repositioned himself so that he was blocking the brake peddle.
Not good! For once I was thankful we live in an area that is not heavily traveled. I struggled to keep my eyes on the road as I steered the truck with one hand and attempted to move the dog out of my way with the other.
Ah, success! At last I maneuvered the truck to a stop just outside our garage door.
The Corgi perked up and jumped right out when I opened the door. He busied himself sniffing around the yard as I called my husband to inquire about the location of the nearest dog pound.
As luck (or lack thereof) would have it, there are none in this area.
Before I could even start to explain further, my husband began rambling on about the situation, “Oh no! We don't need another dog, you have to get rid of it! Why do they always seem to find us?", he grumbled, "Whatever you do, don't let Grand-dad see him. You know how Dad is about dogs...
Then again, maybe he'd be good company for him..."
In two seconds flat he had gone from his stance of "Get rid of the dog now!" to "Well, maybe another dog wouldn't be so bad."
This without even laying eyes on the Corgi, an experience sure to melt his heart. After all, I'm definitely not a "dog person" yet in the short time I'd known this little guy he had managed to get me hooked.
After inspecting the yard and making his mark on the bushes, the dog merrily followed me to the kitchen door. He sat and waited as I fumbled for my keys, obviously eager to get inside and check out the accommodations. Realizing I didn't know how he would react to our house pets or vice versa, I grabbed my own dog's leash off its hook on the garage wall and slipped it around the Corgi's neck. Heaven forbid he attack one of our cats or my dog right there in their own kitchen!
He didn't. He sort of jumped toward one of the cats as it passed by, but it was more of a "Hey! Let's play!" jump than an "Aha! BREAKFAST!" declaration. He and the resident dog also greeted each other with much enthusiasm, which was encouraging.
I gave the Corgi some water and food and put a couple towels in the garage for him to lie on. It turns out he prefers to sit right there on the step by the kitchen door, lest he miss an opportunity to dart inside.
In the three hours since this adventure began, I've called three veterinarian's offices, the Pet Hotel that looks after my dog when I'm out of town, and a rescue organization, only to reach a recording each time. The rescue organization's answering machine informed me that they are not receiving any more pets at this time due to lack of funds. I checked their website, where they have a page for "Lost Pets". There are no Corgis listed there.
I printed out some flyers to post around the area, then brought the dog inside and gave him a bath. If he's staying here, even temporarily, he must smell better!
As I suspected, there was a beautiful animal under all that mud. A beautiful animal that was infested with fleas and hates baths. He tolerated the experience well, none-the-less, another indication that he's a good dog and probably someone's precious pet. Because of the fleas I had no choice but to put him back in the garage. Thank God he hasn't barked and up to this point has not scratched the kitchen door (or the Jaguar) or knocked over either of the motorcycles. He's still sitting on the steps patiently waiting for me to come back for him.
I am such a weakling!
As soon as he's good and dry we are going for another ride. I finally got in touch with a real person at one of the vet's offices. They didn't have any reports of any lost Corgi's but they do have an instrument that checks for those micro-chip thingies some people have implanted in their pets. This dog doesn't have a collar, but he may have a microchip! I can only hope!
I would write more, but I really should be going. My Corgi...errrr I mean, the stray dog in the garage is crying. I need to make sure he ok.