Way to be social, Pavel.
We have similar people skills.
I decided to take a break from not writing and not drawing to walk Jamie to the bank. Without a car, it’s 45 minute walk to and the same from, and I didn’t much like the idea of her going alone. (She also played a little guilt on me so I’d come anyway.) But, just up the street from here, she turned her ankle. I knew she wouldn’t make it the whole distance that way, so we turned to head back.
Then, quite suddenly, a tiny pitbull puppy runs out of one of the neighboring yards and accosts us there on the street. Stopping on the curb, he wiggled and squeaked until we approached to say hi.
He was smaller than my foot, probably the size of two hands cupped together, and he was intent on having some love. So, I picked him up—and suffered some squeaky nuzzling—and we headed up the drive to knock on the door. Unfortunately, nobody was home. Jamie knocked, then I handed her the puppy and I knocked, but nobody answered.
With a handful of impatient, wiggling puppy on my shoulder, we headed back to the driveway to figure out what to do. The nearby street is a busy one, and I knew a shoe-sized pitbull wasn’t going to win against traffic. So, we settled to stand in their driveway and wait, to see if they turned up. Bacon—as I nicknamed him, because he looked like a piglet—took this as an opportunity to nap between our feet.
And then, suddenly, there was barking. Looking over the fence, I discovered a medium-sized white and brown pitbull raising a ruckus from a treehouse in the yard. She wasted no time getting down and racing up to bark at me. She snarled pretty good, but her tail was wagging, so I didn’t feel too threatened. The first thing I noticed—besides the teeth—was that she had descended nipples. Little Bacon looked like a miniature, blue-and-green-eyed version of her. This, it seemed, was Bacon’s Mom. And she was standing in front of a gap in the back yard gate.
I took a second to verify that Mom wasn’t going to eat me or him, then unceremoniously stuffed him in the gap, hoping he would go with her. And he turned around and popped back out, and followed me across the driveway. I put him in again, he came out again. I went to go bang on the door some more, and sure enough, Jamie reports that he’s after me. xD “He’s waddlin’ hard!” she giggled. “Here he comes!” And pop! He bursts through the bushes to meet me on the porch.
At this point, it’s time to call my source of all answers: my mother. She laughingly advises me to drop him over the fence, block the hole, then leave them a note. I called home and got my youngest brother to run up the block with some paper and a piece of wood, then did just that. I picked little Bacon up, showed him to his Mom for verification, and dropped him over the fence into a soft patch of grass. Then, I wedged the block into the gate. I stepped back to check my work; Bacon waddled quickly up to the hole he knew was there, and ran into the plank. He bopped into it once, then again, then finally gave up, plopping on the ground to pout. In the meantime, Mom continued to bark at me, reassuring me that, yes, it was time to go. Sending the sibs home ahead of me, I scrawled a quick note, stuck it in their mailbox and headed off across the yard to get home. I bid goodbye to Mamadog, who continued to bark at me from across the yard, and to Bacon, who tried to follow me even then…xD
I was having a shitty day, and this little adventure cheered me up. We’ll see if I hear anything from the owners. I hope they don’t mind the block in their fence. xD