I found a dog....

The following events actually happened. Nothing has been embellished. I swear, every single word is true. Honestly, file this under "you can't make this shit up".

Last Saturday I got into my car to run an errand and saw a small dog walking up my street. I live on a relatively busy street that leads to an even busier county road, read: lots of fast moving cars and idiot drivers. Not the safest place for a dog.

This is a dog. It's not the actual dog I found. I just needed a cute dog picture for the post. So sue me.

I sat in my car toying with the idea of getting out to see what the dog's deal was, or just going about my business and running my errand. Then I thought of my two dogs, Henry and Cosmo. If one of my dogs got out, I would hope that someone would take the time to make sure he didn't run into traffic, to make sure he was kept safe. So I got involved.

That was my first mistake.

I checked the dog for signs of ownership. No collar, no tags, no leash, no identifying marks. I brought the dog into my house and put it in my dog crate (I had my husband put our two boys outside so they didn't think I had brought them a chew toy). I posted the dog's picture on our HOA Facebook page alerting anyone who may be missing a dog to the fact that I had found one. Then I ran my errand.

When I got back, I checked the HOA Facebook page and saw no results, so I decided to check the dog to see if I could provide more details (male or female, coloring, age, etc). That's when I saw that this poor dog was infested with fleas and flea eggs. And it was sitting in my dog crate, with our blankets and our dog towels. Oh hell no. I treat my dogs for fleas with Frontline every month and I can't have an untreated dog infested with fleas in my house. No flipping way. So I called the local animal control office to make sure they were there on the weekend, and I got dressed, put the dog in a carrier and brought it to their office.

Let me make this perfectly clear: had this dog been flea-free, and not shown signs of infestation, I would have kept the dog all day, hoping that the owner could be located. However, that is not the case. This dog, this sweet innocent animal was crawling with fleas, and keeping it around my dogs was not an option.

Upon returning from the animal control office, someone messaged me that they knew who the owner was.

Then the owner saw my FB post on our HOA page and, I shit you not, accused me of stealing her dog.

You read that right. She said I stole her dog. But wait it gets better. These are literally, word for word, the posts she made on my Facebook post. Keep in mind, I found her dog. I made sure it did not get hit by a car. I could've just looked the other way and let someone else deal with it. But I didn't. This was the owner's response to my post. Each sentence was posted in a separate comment.

You can pay the $50 to pick her up

And I will file charges against you for stealing her I saw you drive off

They will not release her and I am coming to your house

!!!!!!!!!   (I'm not lying, that was an actual individual comment right there)

I just called 911

And I am waiting for the officer to call me

That's wrong what you did

And I don't have time for this (apparently she had time to post on FB over and over)

 I am filing a civil case.

You do not steal any pet !! And it's reported

I would shut your mouth !!

(someone posted here that I had done the right thing, the owner responded below)

No let someone steal your dog

See how you react

These people have nothing better to do pretty sad

It was wrong and it's been reported I wont drop it I will do what I have to  !!

Ok so here's the deal. Had the owner spent money on proper care of the dog (ie flea meds), she wouldn't have had to bail her dog out of doggie lockup.

I always try to teach my children to do the right thing. To make good choices and to help others if you are able. And yet, I thought I was doing the right thing, and it came back to bite me in the ass.

Did I do the wrong thing by taking the dog to animal control? Would you have kept a flea-infested animal around your animals? In your flea-free house? Or am I the bad guy here. I'd love to know what you think.

If you liked this post, perhaps you'll enjoy reading about the time I found something on Henry that no dog should have.

Fear the Man Bun!!

Once upon a time there was a young girl who met a boy with a man bun. He was charming and had a pretty smile and said all the right things. The young girl thought "wow, he's smart and funny and cute and I've never dated anyone with a man bun before." The girl and the boy began seeing one another but the boy was not ready to commit to the word "dating". Tragically, 4 years before, he had 'issues' with an ex-girlfriend and was ever-afraid to use that term again. So he never did. Ya know, because 'dating' is such a terrifying term.

They saw one another and enjoyed one another's company, but there was no real term for their situation. And one day, the boy with the bun decided 'it's not you, it's me.' And he dumped the girl. Really, it wasn't her, it was him. And his man bun. 

Lo and behold, not long after the dumping, there was another girl in the boy with the man bun's life. "Wow, that didn't take long" thought the original girl. She moved past the boy with the man bun but it still stung because she had no idea why she was dumped. Cold feet? Did she pressure him? Was his bun too tight? She'd never know.

One fine evening, both girls found themselves at the same place and in the same room. Never one to shy away from a good conversation, the original girl approached the new girl in the boy with the man bun's life and said "Hey are you dating 'man bun'?"

"Well, I WAS, but not anymore" she replied. Turns out she, too, had been jilted by the boy with the man bun. And she, too, was given no good reason. Here's the thing: they say that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Well, what's more powerful than one woman scorned? How about two women scorned by the same boy with the same man bun?

The two jilted girls became fast friends.The shared stories and relished in their similarities. Sometimes good really can come from a bad situation, and the two girls formed an alliance. This alliance made the boy with the man bun very nervous. His friend (he who has no man bun) has approached the two girls numerous times, no doubt on an information gathering mission for the boy with the man bun. But the girls did their very best impression of the penguins of Madagascar. They 'just smiled and waved'.

They say that everything happens for a reason. It's possible that both of these beautiful young women were dumped by the boy with the man bun so that they would bond together and become life long friends. Stranger things have happened. But I believe the real lesson here is, if you are an impressionable young woman and are approached by a boy with a man bun, ask him how he feels about the word "dating". If he turns and runs away, and all you see is his man bun bouncing behind him, turn and run the other way. You're too good for him.

I've Got Balls!

This week, the folks at Blogger Idol are once again offering the Blogger Idol Week 2 Play-at-Home Link Up. Remember last week, the topic was Family or Holiday Traditions? Well, this week's offering has a little bit of a twist. This week, we are to write about a day in the life.......of the opposite sex. So let's pretend that I woke up with balls this morning. And a penis. This is a day in the life of me, as a man.

Oh my God, I've got balls. I don't know exactly how it happened, but damn if I don't have balls. TWO of them!! NOW I get what all the fuss is about. I can't juggle them, I can't swat them with a club, a bat or a racquet, but I can touch them. As a matter of fact, I'm touching them right now! You know why? BECAUSE I CAN.

Along with the balls comes the penis. Yup, got one of those as well. It's not too big and it's not too small. It's just right, and it's mine. I can get out of bed and start walking towards the bathroom, pull my underwear down, step out of them and leave them lying right there on the floor. Why? Because I've got balls, and that's what we men who have balls do. Naturally, I go in and pee standing up, because that's what we men with balls do too. I check my hairy face in the mirror and think, damn, I'd make an ugly chick but boy, these balls and this facial hair really make me look hot. Girls dig facial hair. So I say screw shaving. This is my day, and nothing was mentioned in the rules that it has to be MY actual life, so for this one day in the life, I'm a dude, with junk, and I'm on my own.

So I'm heading downstairs where my dogs are and they greet me with tails wagging and drool flying. After letting them out, making myself some coffee and letting them back in, I'm going to feed them. Just me and my boys. My boys are fixed, and at this moment in time, I've got more junk than they do. I am the manliest man in all the land! Or at least in my house. They happily chow down on their Dog Chow while I make a manly omelet. Men love omelets and mine has all the meat I could find in the fridge. Ham. Okay maybe it's not the manliest omelet on the planet but it's mine.

I wash my omelet down with a beer. Why? Because I'm a man and that's my right. And because I've finished my coffee and am out of juice. And where do you think I'm leaving my dirty dishes? Damn right, in my sink! I'm so full of testosterone I could wrestle a bear so why in hell would I want to wash a damn dish?

No, what I'm doing is watching football all day. Just me, my boys, my balls and my TV remote. We sit on the couch, them eating Milk Bones and me drinking beer with one hand and fondling my junk in the other. I just want to make sure they're still there. My phone rings around 3:00 in the afternoon and it's a chick. Apparently I was supposed to call her back after I had a date with her. I didn't. I'm a guy, it's a guy thing. I'm just not that into her, but she offers to bring over a pizza so I say sure. Knock yourself out, Susan, er, Sarah, er sorry, Sally. Whatever. Just bring the pizza.

An hour later, the doorbell rings and rouses me from a nap. The dogs look lazily at me from their Milk Bone-induced comas and since they're not making a move to answer the door, it's up to me. I grab a pair of shorts from the living room floor, because that's where I keep my shorts. I do a quick sniff test, find them passable and put them on to answer the door. I'm a dude but I'm not a caveman, give me some credit. I open the door and there is Sus...Sara...Sal... there she is with pizza in one hand and a six pack in the other. Why didn't I like this chick?

We enjoy the rest of the first game and flip over to watch the next game. Turns out she likes one team, I like the other. Awesome. I've been looking for a way to get rid of her anyway, and if she doesn't like my team, I'm pretty much finished with her. What better way to get rid of a clingy chick then to prove just how awesome a man I am? I start farting and blame the dogs. Once the beer is gone, the pizza is eaten and the dogs have gone outside (because man do their asses stink!) I sit there watching her team demolish mine. I ask her to pull my finger and she leaves. What? What'd I do? It was a joke. Chicks just don't dig fart jokes.

Once all the football games are over, my dogs are sleepy and I've got a tired buzz going on. I take off my shorts and leave them, naturally, on the living room floor. I schlepp up the stairs to my bedroom, pee standing up one last time and head to bed. As I drift off to sleep, you know exactly where my hand is. Who knows if I will wake up in the morning with junk, so I need to enjoy it while I've got it.