Where oh, where...

I didn’t grow up a dog person. We had gerbils. We had a fish tank. A fish tank with snails and fish until the snail to fish ratio got so out of hand looking into the tank was not possible due to the number of snails sliming their way across the glass. They might move slowly, but they multiply faster than a Hewlett Packard 9100B.
My wife grew up a dog person. I cannot remember all the names and breeds her family had, but she can. She had a dog when we got married. Her dog didn’t like me moving into his house.
His favorite way of punishing me was to ask to go out right when I was going to bed. He particularly liked it with wind chills hovering around Tenzing Norgay levels. He was a Shih Tzu so his ancestors were from the Himalayas. This meant he was better prepared for the cold than I. It also meant he was around ten pounds so he couldn’t take me in a fair fight. He had to rely on trickery. He would get me outside then stand stock still with his muzzle pointing directly into the frigid wind. Occasionally, he would peek at me to enjoy seeing the grown man shivering in flannel pants and slippers. If I hurried him and came in from the cold sooner than he wanted to I would be rewarded with a very warm spot on my carpet.
At the moment the senior dog in the house was a pet sitting episode gone horribly wrong. When we lived in Cimarron the kids ran a pet sitting service. We would take other people’s dogs into our house and all too frequently onto my bed. Anyway, a lady asked us to watch her dog while she was out of town. That was eight years ago. The lady was not placed in the federal witness protection plan, nor did she choose the same career path as Shelley Long. She is fine and living in Cimarron. By my calculations her pet sitting bill is now $16,790 (including the 15% gratuity); leap year days are on me.
The junior dog in the house caused quite a stir recently. Alice, the middle of our three kids, has always wanted a pug or something similar. My wife told this to a friend who works with the local humane society. That is what brought Rosie into our lives about a month ago.
On the 4th of July we had friends over for dinner and didn’t want the dogs under foot while we ate. Both dogs were placed in the backyard. The backyard which Dad (a.k.a. Me) had not properly fixed to hold a small dog. So, we now have a small dog and a fence with imperfections large enough for a small dog to fit through if properly motivated. Then came the perfect motivation: fireworks.
Once we discovered her escape we all scattered in impromptu search parties. Finding a small lost dog is hard enough, but on this night it was impossible. All the explosions made it sound like Bruce Willis was filming a re-make of a Sam Peckinpah movie directed by Quentin Tarantino in Chilton Park.
The next day we marshaled the troops. Flyers were made. Phone calls were made. We visited the Animal Shelter. We wandered the streets. I went to the radio station and asked the Steves (Brown and Deno) and Keith to announce the A.P.P.B. (all points puppy bulletin). We talked to the Humane Society people. Alice called her sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Teran, and had her translate our flyer so we could have it in Spanish. The Globe will place lost dog ads for free. Everyone was great.
I don’t write suspense thrillers so I will let you know we now have the dog back. After a week of being missing Rosie and Alice are reunited and there was great rejoicing. A nice person found Rosie on the evening of July 4th and took good care of her. She eventually saw a flyer and brought her to our house.
So many people were so helpful I cannot thank them enough. Not only people I count as friends, but people who were simply empathetic to a girl and her lost pet. Shona, Barb, and Jane from the Humane Society, the radio guys, Mrs. Teran, my wife’s walking buddies (Janie and Susan), strangers we talked to as we looked, friends who walked with us to look, kind-hearted mail carriers, and even the guy on the bicycle who took the flyer offered to him as he whizzed past my wife shouting back that he would keep an eye out.