Today I Found a Dog...

Right now, I am hot, wet, sweaty, and stinky. Let me explain, and give some background information. Before I do, I want to note that I dI not share my experience because I am excessively nice, or that I want people to think good of me. Like all tales, I will share the moral of the story last.

While throwing something away outside of my house in a large green trash can, around 5:00 p.m this evening, I saw this huge black lab. Seriously, he had to be at least 60+ lbs. I tentatively gave him the name Leonidus, he was so strong. My 7-year old innocently wanted to name him Obama. I said, "No Brianna, you cannot name a black dog Obama. Not cool." To be fair, she also wanted to name a rabbit and gerbils Obama too; they were both white. Getting back, the last time I had a dog I was 7, and when I got back from a summer camp a little over 20-years ago.

My mom who picked me up looked read sad and said that the dog had to move up state, where they had pastures, cows, (and probably flying unicorns) and he would be so happy. When I got home, not knowing the lie my mom told me, he said that the dog was now sporting wings. When my brother saw me, he said the dog bit the dust. What the heck? So he's on a farm with wings, and is eating dust? Weird, but cool. I might not have been bright. So, I have always been very wary of dogs; their this creature a person loves for 15-years, their life crashes when it dies.

About a year ago, while I was at the Veteran's hospital seeing my neurologist, he said if I wanted, he could put me on a list for a seizure dog. It would be free of charge, and I might get a monthly stipend so I could pay his expenses. Short story, I was in Iraq, there was a blast, now I have seizures. I don't have the grand seizures you see on television. I have these petite seizures only after hours of extreme migraines. They don't happen out of the blue. I have put my name on and off the list several times. I don't really need one, I know when the seizures will happen, and I don't have grand mal seizures, so give the dog to someone who needs one. Honestly, a part of me thought that as I took my name off the list. I could use one really, it could tell me days before a seizure.

Back to the story, so this big black lab comes up to me. I stay still not knowing if it was friend or foe. He licked my hand. It was so damn cute, I couldn't help but to like him. I filled a bucket full of water and offered it to him. He drank greedily, and it was obvious he had been gone from home for many hours to a few days. I then offered him some cat food from when last year I found a cat. Whats up with my neighborhood and lost pets?

I grabbed a scarf for a leash, and paraded him up and down the street looking for some lost owner worried about his missing dog. No one came. I started to the door to door approach. I have lived in neighborhood a year and I still don't most of my neighbors. You can also tell a lot from people if you approach their home with a dog on a scarf, and a question on your face. Some were nice, some were not. Maybe they thought this was a new tactic of the Jehovah Witnesses.

One neighbor I never met before, Megan, told me to look to see if it was a girl or boy, and to see if it was neutered. I felt like that was a bit personal, so I offered to lift his front part of his body. I felt uber awkward, like walking in on a parent in the bathroom. So he was a male dog, not neutered, no leash or collar.

He also had cuts and bruises on him, and he was scared. She had a large backyard with a fence and her husband was a policeman and he would be home soon, and asked if she could keep the dog. I agreed, and gave my number. She had experience with dogs, and I did not. About an hour later, a drunk man knocked on my door, he had been driving and his car was in my driveway. He asked where his dog was very rudely. I smiled, and told him exactly where his dog was...the house of the cop. Have fun in jail, buddy. After this whole ordeal, I actually think I might get the seizure dog; he was large but gentle, scared but sweet.

The moral of the story? Karma is not a nice lady.