You know that little stray Beagle I puppy sat last week? The one I had named Winky? Wayne and I were walking Murph in the neighborhood the other day and we ran into the neighbors who had found him. (Which bears clarification. I guess Winky is not a him but a her.) To our surprise they still had her!
The neighbor was coming out with their existing dog, Zoe, and Winky on a leash. Winky was so happy to see us. She remembered us. With squeals and yips of delight she strained to get to us and we greeted her with hugs and kisses. (Well, Wayne and I did. Murph gave her a polite sniff then tried to keep going. It was as if he was saying, “Oh no! Not that wild pup again. I thought we got rid of her?”)
“You couldn’t find her owners?” we asked with some dismay.
“Oh no,” our neighbor said. “We found the owners all right.”
“You did? Who did she belong to?”
He nodded to the house directly across from theirs.
My heart fell.
“Oh no. Not them! Say it isn’t so!” I thought.
“When did you find out?” Wayne wanted to know.
“At 11 p.m. the next night.”
Both Wayne and I stared at him with puzzled expressions. They’d found the dog on Monday night, had sent out a notice about it using our neighborhood grape vine the next day, had heard from the owners at 11 p.m. that night, but still had Winky come 6 p.m. the following day? (Making it day three puppy was in their care.)
I actually wasn’t surprised. As much as the people who live in that house want to be dog lovers, they are horrible dog owners. They had another little schnauzer that always got out and they leave their other dog out all the time. The schnauzer ended up disappearing. They made only a half-hearted attempt to find it. Later they confided to me they have the “worst luck with dogs.” They either run away or get hit by cars. Yeah, and whose fault is that? Not the dogs!
Now they have this little puppy who’s mere weeks old that got loose on a very cold night and no one ever saw them making any attempt to find it. Sure, eventually they called based on the email that went out, but on the night it got out? I kept watch that whole night for cars driving slowly through the neighborhood or for people out on foot calling for a dog. Never saw a soul.
I haven’t heard how much longer it was before they picked up their pup. If they even still have.
All I knew was my heart ached as we parted ways that night and Winky cried and fussed and made it very clear she wanted to come with us. I had told Wayne when we sent her home the one night, “Remind me about her and how much work that is if I ever get the bright idea I want a puppy-puppy for our next dog.”
But suddenly, after finding out who her parents were going to be, I wanted to make an offer to adopt her so bad.
Is that terrible of me?
Related Articles
You’re Not in Kansas Anymore, Toto: 5 Steps to Help a Stray Pet Find Home