This is me this weekend.
Errr … well it would be if Barbie were a brunette and 3 or 4 pounds heavier. Okay, 6 pounds.
A neighbor called me frantic because the person who was letting their dog out decided to go to Tennessee in the middle of the neighbor’s trip. Obviously I said, “Sure, I’d love to let your dog out!” Actually, I really don’t mind – it’s not that big of a deal.
But this morning was rough. I thought the dog was dead. I opened the garage door and didn’t hear his usual cacophony of barking. (He’s one of those little dogs who has to be wary of sparrows and other birds of prey when he’s outside – and you know how dogs like that just love to bark.) In fact, it was totally silent.
The pit of my stomach dropped out as I gingerly made my way downstairs. I was going over the script in my head of what I would say when I called my neighbor to tell her that her dog was dead. I went to his kennel. There he was. Under a blanket. Not moving.
Do you know the next thought that popped in my head? The next thought I had was, “What will I do with the body until they get back? What if they tell me to put it in the freezer or something? What if they want me to put him in my freezer?”
I jiggled the cage. Nothing. I couldn’t tell if the blanket was moving up and down. I started to pull the blanket off …
Holy cow! Can that dog move! He jumped up like a new pup and started barking like crazy! I have never in my entire life been so grateful to hear a dog bark!
I was relating the story to another neighbor who had had dog duty with the same dog in the past. Turns out he’s hard of hearing. But the owners apparently don’t think that is necessary to pass on because my friend also had an episode where she thought the dog had died on her watch!