Like I Was Saying...
The Bacon-wrapped Tenderloin I tried to make for dinner was an epic fail. So after we picked up Marcos from Rugby, we opted for Little Caesars.
Taking a left down our street, I saw this little blonde dog sniffing around a house from the corner of my eye. The house seemed like the owners had tucked in for the night. Of course, you look around for someone else, holding a leash, with a bag in hand, or out for a nightly stroll. Nada.
Watching the dog, something bothered me. The little dog was ambling around, bumping into trees, the house, or the tire. Once the dog bumped into something, he would change course.
I stopped.
“Is that dog lost?”
Lucy and Marcos saw the dog and watched it for a second.
We’ve been through this before. Since Lucy and I have been together, we’ve returned found four or five lost dogs to their owners.
Then, my normal instinct kicked in. We don’t need another dog—especially a dog too stupid to bump into things. We already have four dogs at home to manage. We don’t need another dog. Not for a night, a week, or heaven forbid, indefinitely.
Someone will find him, I thought, but not me, not us. We got hot pizzas and four dogs already; we don’t need another dog. Let someone else deal with this little dog.
“Someone will find him, and probably already out looking for him,” I say and drive the few houses down to our house.
Turning into our driveway, I take one look back. The stupid dog is in the street now. It’s dark, the dog’s head is down, and he’s oblivious to his danger. Plus, it’s still chilly from the five inches of snow that recently fell. Damn.
I throw the car in reverse.
The little dog returned to the house we first saw him at, searching for God know what.
Lucy rolls down her window and calls for the dog. The little dog doesn’t turn around. Marcos and I tried, and again, the dog was in his little sniffing and bumping world.
Lucy gets out and draws closer, calling him, but again the dog ignores her.
When Lucy finally crabs the dog, she finds that the dog is both blind and deaf. Makes sense.
He does have a little coat. So at least he’s loved on some level. Looking at the dog, I imagine it in better times. I’m not good with breeds, but he’s one of these dogs you’d put in a teacup when they’re puppies and post on Pinterest to get your feels. This dog is long past those teacup days.
We bring him home and put him in our bathroom, away from the other dogs. I feed him a little food and watch him run around the bathroom, again, bumping around.
I do pick him up and check his eyes. One eye is completely black; his other eye shoots straight down to the bottom of his socket. It gave me the creeps.
Someone tells us on social media that the dog belongs to this one house. So we brought the dog to the house, but their dog was safe at home. Maybe he has a chip. Please, God, let him have a chip.
As we go to the emergency vet clinic, we find out who the owners are living a few houses down from our house.
The dog’s name is Lucky, but he doesn’t know that because he can’t hear.
They’re pulling into their driveway when we arrive. They had been out looking for Lucky.
The Dad tells us they also found Lucky on the side of the road. They took him to the vet to check him out. Lucky is blind and deaf, but they find out he’s also dying.
Dad hands Lucky to one of his daughters. The other kids that live in the home crowd around him, happy Lucky will be safe and warm.
Dad tells us his kids asked to keep him and to love him during his last days. He agreed. Of course, he thanks us for finding him.
If nothing else, now home, this family will let Lucky live out his name for the rest of his days.
All in all, I’m glad we stopped.
St. Anthony, pray for Lucky. Pray for that family. And pray for us.