Pink sweater vests

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

I'm convinced that Clayton and I are dog whispers.  And when I say "Clayton and I", I really mean me.  Last night he admitted that he could really care less and just follows my lead on our Great Animal Rescue Adventures because 9 out of 10 times something hilarious or super embarrassing comes out of it.  While I don't believe that's always the case, I do appreciate his company and willingness to let me love every fuzzy mammal I come into contact with.

Last night we met my brother-in-law and sister-in-law (SO. MANY. HYPHENS.) for dinner at the Trojan Horse where we all ended up ordering the exact same thing and happily stuffed our faces with humus and gyros. Afterwards, we met some of our mutual friends at a bar down the street where I pleasantly discovered that Tuesday nights at this particular bar are "1$ Everything Night", meaning everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, is only a $1.  I ordered my usual whiskey and Diet Coke from the waitress who then promptly asked me what kind of whiskey I wanted.  "Whatever's cheap," I said with my automatic response. But then the waitress kindly reminded me that all alcohol, despite its race, sex or creed, was only a $1. So I ordered Crown Royal and felt fancy.

On the drive back to the apartment, while I was chattering away about how great it would be if everything was a dollar all the time, it started raining.  Just as we were about to pull into our building's parking lot, Clayton slammed on the breaks.  A black and white flash darted past our car. As I watched it run off into the distance, I was able to decipher that the flash appeared to be a small dog ... wearing a sweater vest.  We parked the car, got out, and both automatically began walking in the same direction as the dog.  We didn't hear anyone calling for the animal, so I just assumed it was my civic duty to track down this animal and see if it had an ID tag on its collar.

We came up to a neighbor's back porch and found a guy who looked to be about our age enjoying a cigarette.

"Did you by any chance just see a dog in a sweater vest run past by?" I asked.

"Yeah. It just barked the hell out of me and ran away," he said, taking a drag of his cigarette. (P.S. "barked the hell out me" has to be the greatest string of words I've ever heard in my life).

So we continued in the direction our neighbor pointed and eventually found a small boston terrier scuttling about the parking lot, looking nervous and confused.  I stopped where I was, crouched down to his/her eye level and called for it.  The dog turned around, ran a few step towards me, stopped, and started barking at me in a tone that can only be described as "bitchy".  It was then that I noticed that dog was not only wearing a pink sweater vest, but a sweater vest that said "Princess" across the chest and had cheetah fur on the collar.

If you take the time to stuff your dog into a sweater against its will, surely you would pay enough attention to it to notice if it goes missing, right?

When I tried to reach for the dog, she snipped at me (I'm assuming it was a girl dog ... or, if it actually is a boy dog, now I totally get why he ran away) and worriedly ran off down the sidewalk.  We chased after her and followed her up and down several staircases and watched as she stood in front of random apartments and barked at the doorways. Every time we got close enough to grab at her collar, she'd keep us at bay by "barking the hell out of us".  She was too sassy for her own good. I was starting to see why someone wouldn't mind if she disappeared.

Finally, a car pulled up behind us and a frantic blonde woman climbed out.  "Is this your dog?" I asked, pointing at the rude little creature in the stupid outfit.

"Um, no ... it's um ... my, my friend's dog," she stammered, walking past us towards the dog. In no time at all she hooked a leash onto the dog's collar and started leading her back to the waiting vehicle.  "Uh ... thanks," she said over her shoulder.

"Why isn't her friend out looking for her own dang dog?" I asked as we trudged back to our own apartment.

"I'm thinking that 'her friend' really doesn't exist and she was just embarrassed," Clay replied.

"Why would someone lie about owning a dog?" I asked incredulously.

"Would YOU admit that the bitchy dog in the pink cheetah sweater was yours?" he responded, matter-of-factly.

Point taken.


You Might Also Like

0 comments

Navigation-Menus (Do Not Edit Here!)