Syllabus #207

Hey, you people who regularly go out of your way to do good deeds:  How?  What's it like?  Are you just tired all the time?  

I did one Good Samaritan Act on Saturday, and at the time of this writing on Saturday evening, I'm like, exhausted.

See, on Friday night, we had storms roll through, and Saturday promised to be hot and steamy AF, so I took Charlie for a walk around 7 in the morning, before Satan had a chance to rest his swampy nethers upon the Cumberland Plateau.  We get part of the way around the block, and I see this tiny little black animal just sitting proudly on the yellow line in the middle of a not-that-busy-yet thorofare that people tend to speed down.  As we got closer I could see it was a very tiny, very wet, bedraggled dog of indeterminate breed.  Curly hair like a poodle, little short legs like a wiener dog.  A peener if you will (and I will).

Foot for scale

I stepped into the road to stop traffic and used Charlie as bait (if an animal 4 times the size of the one you are trying to lure can be considered bait) to coax the dog onto the sidewalk.  Charlie thought he hit the friggin' lottery, like I conjured this new best friend especially for him.  Peener Dog had some real BDE (big dog energy, omg don't be gross) and had no problem sniffing and dancing around Charlie, wagging his weird little rat tail.  Then he followed us all the way home like it was the most obvious, natural thing in the world.  

I gave him some food and water and posted his info in several neighborhood and lost pet groups.  He had no collar so that was the best I could do in the moment.  A few people replied that it looked like possibly a neighbor's dog, but I knocked on their doors to no avail.  Let that sink in.  I, an elder millennial who would sooner eat my own hair before I'll answer the phone or open the door to a stranger, KNOCKED ON STRANGERS' DOORS to help this little lost dog.

I then lured him into a cat carrier and hauled him to the vet to get him scanned for a microchip, but dawg was like Naked and Afraid over here, dropped into parts unknown with only his wits by which to survive.  The temperature was climbing AND it was threatening to storm again, so with no leads from the sosch meeds (why can't she just say social media like a normal human person?) I took him to animal control.  I really just wanted to fling open the back door and make like an Olive Garden (the 'when you're here your're family' part, not the 'unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks' part, I friggin' know dogs don't like minestrone) but homeboy clearly had fleas and his unknown health status and untested attitude towards cats made that a big no.

Best case scenario, his family finds him ASAP.  He's too sweet and compliant to not be someone's very loved pet.  At least I hope so.  Maybe he ran off during the storms and his people are frantically trying to find him?  Worst case scenario, no one claims him after 72 hours and my cold grinch heart grows by however many sizes are required to accommodate this scrappy little muppet?  Maybe?  We'll see.

---

We didn't start the fire, but this one is a dumpster fire.  So chaotic.  The lack of respect for chronology and the verbal gymnastics required to fit the rhyme scheme are moderately offensive.

I don't know anything, but this song, on the other hand, is delightful. 

Analog Reading:

The Best Minds by Jonathan Rosen is keeping me hooked but parts of it are a bit of a slog.  It's partly a memoir and meditation on the author's close childhood friendship with a wildly smart, enigmatic dude who ended up having schizophrenia, and partly an examination of the state of mental health institutions and supports in this country.  The in-the-weeds parts are valid, but I'm mostly here for the human drama because I am a philistine.

The Guest List by Lucy Foley was a SNACK.  The kind of snack I used to eat after school where I'd abandon all self control and just gorge on whatever was in the pantry or candy bowl until I felt ill.  Except this time I didn't have to explain why a package of E.L. Fudge cookies disappeared in 2 days or why the pockets of the pool table were overflowing with Hershey's Kiss wrappers.  I just get to tell you that this was a chaotic, sexy, murderous romp.  'Twas a fun read.