Dog Days of Summer

Like all dog owners, I like to think that I have the best dog in the world. But some nights, when you are walking pantless three blocks in the dark with your 50-pound dog squirming in your arms, filthy, with dirt, leaves and (yes) feathers stuck in your hair and on your body, sometimes you just have to face facts.

Last night Paddy whined from three to five in the morning so I decided to bring her outside briefly in case she desperately needed to go to the bathroom (a valid concern since she continues to drink as much saltwater as possible when "swimming" despite the fact that saltwater dependably gives her an upset stomach). When we went outside (the backyard is no longer fenced, only our living room) nothing happened so I tugged her leash to bring her back upstairs. I guess the collar had gotten too loose because when she tugged back she just slipped right out of it. She disappeared into the darkness of the street (no streetlights here) and before I knew it I was holding onto a leash that was clasped to a collar without a dog. If you have never been in that position, it is a seriously stupid feeling.

From the warmth and comfort of sleep I suddenly found myself barefoot, indecently exposed, running down my street before sunrise yelling “come” completely desperately since Paddy and I both knew there was absolutely no chance that she would come.

Anyway...

As I was shimmying and slithering underneath my neighbor’s foundation at five in the morning with a growing lump on my head from where I had just banged it on a beam of wood - all the while watching Paddy wag her tail - I realized that my good dog is perhaps very bad.







P.S. Thank you, Wards, for giving Alison my number - she and Eric are so much fun!