I am not the most productive person in the best of times. I seem to need stretches of time in which to get things done. And then of course sometimes I never do--get them done, I mean. But today was a complete washout, even for me. On my agenda: Pay bills. This is my most hated task. I don't know why. I used to think it had to do with never having enough money and that once I was solvent, I would pay them with aplomb. That has not been the case. So I must every month (or so) gird my loins, as it were, and write checks. Today was that day. Except--
This morning Molly and I went for our usual morning traipse around the neighborhood and half way through, that is one baggie down, Molly was accosted by another curly white dog. I didn't see where the dog came from; I only saw it standing at attention in the middle of the street, woofing away at Molly. She, of course, went into her who are you pose (the precursor to the I am in love pose), standing stock still and almost pointing as if she were a bird dog flushing out prey. I am not calm. There is a dog standing the middle of the street, at almost the same spot where one was killed last month. Somehow, and truthfully I can't remember, I got the little white dog onto the sidewalk with us.
I hate finding lost dogs. I feel absolutely and completely responsible for them, but I have no confidence in my ability to deal with them. Sometimes they scare me, and sometimes that seems warranted. But this one, this one I picked up and tucked it under my arm and walked right home with it. Frankly, it seemed quite happy to have me do that, and when I put it down at the front door, it just trotted after Molly into the house.
And then the fun began. They sniffed and woofed and ran circles around each other. They ate lunch--nicely--and then lay down at my feet and went to sleep. Meanwhile, I called Animal Control, answered a lost dog ad in the paper, posted a found dog ad on line and emailed a friend who works for the SPCA. My gut said not to let the dog go into The System, and my friend concurred.
It was obvious that I would keep the dog if I couldn't find the owner. Already I was thinking of names: Mamie? too close to Molly. Gwen? possibly. But first I would try to find where the dog lived. It was well groomed, so obviously came from A Good Home. It had a nice collar, but no tags. I decided to put it on a leash and walk it 'round the neighborhood and see if anything struck a chord with it. Twenty minutes later and that dog had sniffed at every pile of poop, even spot of pee for three blocks around. I was giving it its head, so where it wanted to go, I just followed. There wasn't anything different about one house that it stopped at, except that after sniffing away, it plopped itself down and stretched out to rest. I thought that was interesting enough to ring the doorbell--
Sugar is now back with her family. I glad and sorry. It was such a kick to have the two dogs here. I've often wondered if I should get another dog for Molly. I thought Sugar might have been the one.