Just Heather

It starts with next to no sleep because I decide my ear doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. No reason to take Tylenol PM 4 nights in a row. I wake up to a snotty, whiny baby. I get some medicine in her and we’re just settling down to nap cuddle when the phone rings. I get the poor baby dressed, buckle her up and make the trek to the Humane Society.

This where I retrieve my dog for the bargain price of $45—which includes the price of a mandatory microchip—and promptly lock my keys in the car. To my credit, I distinctly remember putting them in my purse. They had to have fallen out when I picked up the leash. This is no comfort while we wait 30 minutes in the lobby of one of the saddest places on earth, which sits right next to juvie. Spectacular view.

Fast-forward to this evening. I’m starting dinner and baby is apparently not sick enough to stay on the couch with a sleeping daddy. First she locks me in the garage when I go out to the freezer. Never fear, that’s why I keep a key out there. Then she picks today of all days to learn how to unlock and open the sliding glass door all by herself. So where’s my $45 dog?

I don’t know either.

Our idiot dog took off last night, chain attached and all. We looked for him, but he was no where to be found. My thought was someone found him and brought him in since it was cold and late. He has tags with our number on it. I was expecting the call I got this morning, but not quite the way it happened.

On the other end was not a nearby neighbor asking us to come get the dog, but the Humane Society telling me I can pay a $40 “return to owner” fee when I drive all the way to the next town to get him.

In what mind was it easier to drive 15 miles with a dog than to call the phone number on his handy little tag? Also? His chain is not with him. Which means that not only do I have to load up a sick baby, drive across town, and pay $40, I also get to buy a new chain and stake.