Hey Mom- can I keep it?

While rolling the garbage cans down to the curb this morning I was accosted by a dog. It was of a smallish size, less than 15 pounds, with a black curly coat. My uneducated guess is that she is a cockapoo, or a shih-tsu/spaniel type mix.

She insinuated herself up to me in a familiar manner, and I assumed she must belong to a neighbor, or be a guest of the neighbor since it ran to me from that direction.

I made a remark to it in my trademark “cute dog voice” (the most idiotic sound you can imagine- worse than baby talk) to the effect of “what a good girl” or some such tripe.

This had the immediate effect of causing the dog to go into paroxysms of near orgasmic joy. Quivering head to tail, she threw herself at my feet and writhed on her back allowing me to pat her belly.

This I did, while scanning the horizon for the dog’s human “parent.”

While scratching it behind the ears, I felt something strange. Upon closer examination I discovered that two black shoestrings had been knotted together, and had become so tight around the dog’s throat that I could barely slip a finger underneath.

This was a bad sign. Even should the rightful owner appear at his point, I would be reluctant to give the dog to them. While the dog appeared to have no emotional scars from abuse, this was a physical sign indicating the incompetence and negligence of the previous owner at the very least.

After removing her confining makeshift collar, the dog demonstrated her gratefulness by docilely trotting at my side as I retrieved the other two trash cans to put by the curb. Then it plopped itself on the front porch like it belonged there.

In truth, the owner of the porch, Grendel- render of souls; shredder of dogs; emasculator of men; He of the Torn Ear; Whupass in a catsuit- had staked the porch as his own territory years ago. He took a disdainful interest in the dog. He neither gave ground or indeed reacted in any way to her playful barks. You could almost see him rolling his eyes and saying, “Bitch, please!”

Our other cat present went up the tree in seconds after hearing a bark so near.

This was the extent of the dog’s interaction with the rightful owner(s) of the porch.

I told Krell of the development. Liking dogs little more than root canals he advocated against feeding it lest it make its stay more permanent. I did insist on putting out water for the dog. Considering the heat index was to be in the vicinity of 115 degrees, to do any less was reprehensible.

She waited patiently for me to finish my outdoor business, watching from the porch in a proprietary manner that I hoped she would not grow accustomed to. Bikers, squirrels, kids on scooters, joggers, the mailman, the garbage truck all went by without any comment from her. One of the neighbor’s freeloading cats came onto the porch to see if we had put out food. She barked at it and it left.

My daughter, a staunch cat lover and a person dismissive of all canines as “nasty poop-eating and stupid,” came outside and found the dog to her liking. Except for barking every now and then, it didn’t really act like a dog. My son claimed he wanted it, but “only if you wash it Mom.”

Animal control was full, the shelter is not a “no kill” one, so I would try as hard as I could to place her with a responsible owner before the end of the day, using word of mouth and a cute picture.

Even though taking a photo with a camera phone of a black animal is nearly impossible, I managed to get one shot of her exposing her belly in a supplicant manner. I added the detail of her “shoestring” collar to the message in hopes it would garner sympathy, then texted the photo to all my dog-loving friends. I pleaded her case as needing a home.

As of 6:30 I had exactly two replies: 1) Sounds nice but we are all dogged up and 2) Let me know if you need longer shoestrings to finish the job

I could see this was a dead end.

One of the kids who has been relentlessly pestering us to swim in the pool despite us not knowing her knocked at the door. I managed to pawn the dog off on her, and I watched it trot happily behind her as she walked her bike the six blocks or so to her house.

Two hours later the dog was back, sleeping on the stoop.

Someone close to me suggested a “mystery drive” which is such bad karma that I won’t even consider it. I dare not let her into the back yard unless she were leashed- with the chickens and rabbits and cats on the loose back there- I can’t be sure how the dog would react to them.

As of right now she is out front, laying in the shade, curled around the water bowl I set out for her. If I should so much as peek out the door, she has an epileptic fit of joy. All this affection ready to be bought for a bowl of water!

I can see why people own dogs. No other animal is as grateful. Sometimes a little “thank you” in a wag of a tail is enough to brighten your whole day.