Wednesday, April 04, 2007

Where, oh where, has my little dog gone?

Doggone! (As Redneck Diva taught me last summer.)

This morning, we could not find our little Beagle, Tank.
He was not on the porch with the big dogs. He didn't
come running to eat when HH doled out the food at
5:30 a.m. (The Devil's Playground brand dogfood that
has not killed any pets yet.) He didn't come running last
night at 9:00 p.m. when I went to the garage to get a
math paper. The doggie Ann came a-runnin', whining
at me for going into the forbidden garage. But there
was no sign of clumsy little Tank.

This morning, we prepared to toss the dogs a treat to
keep Tank on the porch, out from under the tires of
the Large SUV, off the street (OK, gravel road, I'm
puttin' on airs like I live on a paved street), and just
basically out of harm's way until we got out of sight.
But there was no Tank to bribe.

#1 son called HH to see if he had seen Tank. Not since
last night. HH said he was probably in his little house,
asleep. Which I didn't believe for a minute, because
that house is in his PEN, which even with the door open
is still a PEN, and I didn't think Tank would want to go
back to the PEN. Every time I see him sleeping, he is
curled up behind the doggie Ann, with his chin resting
on her butt.

#1 did not speak all the way to school. I was afraid the
pup had caught his collar on a fallen limb, or that the
doggie Ann had chewed the collar plumb off him and
somebody was holding him hostage, thinking "Hmm...
purebred Beagle pup. Think I'll keep him."

At school, I told the not-imaginary Mabel of our plight.
She suggested a prayer to St. Francis of Assisi, patron
saint of animals/pets. I also mentioned it to one of my
classes, which was perhaps not such a scathingly
brilliant idea, since a student who does not even drive
commented, "Oh. I thought I ran over a Bugle last night."

Every time I had a minute without chastising DoNots, my
thoughts turned to my little Beagle. I thought of his soft,
soft, muzzle area (he's shore got a purty mouth), his white
legs with their brown freckles, the thin white stripe down
his little nose, the way he falls off the porch when he gets
too close to the side, the way his back legs take off
running before his front legs, causing him to scoot several
feet on his shoulder. Sigh. I missed that little pup.

I worried about what to do if he was still gone. We rushed
home after school. I use that term loosely, what with a
stop for a Powerball ticket, the requisite Sonic stop (y'all
know what for), a stop at the day-old bread store for
some hoagie rolls (not because I'm thrifty, but because
it's waaaayyyy quicker than The Devil's Playground, or
Ye Olde Expired Food Shoppe, and because Save-A-
Lot does not have hoagie rolls), and of course a stop at
Save-A-Lot. Then we had to stop for the mail.

As we came up the driveway, #1 hollered, "There he is!
In the front yard! Stop! I'm getting out!" Those two ran
to greet each other like long-lost lovers. Well, not exactly,
because one of them is a dog, and they are both male,
and well, the one is OH SO WRONG, but the other
is OK, not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's
not exactly what I would wish for my boy.

Then we saw it. Near the front sidewalk made of bricks
that HH salvaged from a brick street that used to run
behind our old house. It was plump and white, with red
accents. I hollered out the window to #1 son, "Is that
what I think it is?" He looked. "Uhh...I'm afraid it is."
I told him to run take a closer look. #2 son wanted out
to investigate. By that time, we had HH on the phone.
He demanded to know what it was. Because, people...
it looked like a chicken. A dead chicken. A dead,
bloated white chicken with a big red comb, or some
blood on its head.

I parked the LSUV in the medium-sized garage. #1 son
came running in. "Well...we were right. It's a chicken...
or a duck...or something. Let me get it." With that, he
ran back to the front yard. I didn't have time to scream
"NOOOOO!" #1 came running back into the garage
with it. One look, and I told him to return it to the front
yard habitat. We have no idea where it came from.
I blame the doggie Ann. But possession is 9/10 of the
law, so Tank is the one whose face will appear on the
wanted posters, coming soon to a Post Office near you.





























Whew! That was kind of a long story for that payoff, huh?

Now I'm off to check out writeinthethickofit.blogspot.com.
It's later than you think. Diva is posting the new edition of
stories for her writing challenge later tonight. OK, that's not
a good sentence. She's posting them later tonight. Her
challenge is every week. Go read some stories. Vote.
Don't feel beholden to vote for me. Vote for the one you
like best. Visit it every week. Don't cost nothin'.

LET ME CLARIFY THAT. The new stories will be
posted after 8:00 on THURSDAY night. You see, I'm a
bit confused, what with posting at night, and many of you
don't read it until the next day, and, well, it will be on
THURSDAY night. Sorry for discombobulating anyone.

8 comments:

DeadpanAnn said...

You didn't see the "Gone huntin'" sign hanging on his pen??

He's cute. I'm glad he's not dead. I was sure you were about to say Tank was dead, and that would've convinced me once and for all that our lives have some weird parallel thing going on.

The little Beagle that survived Sweet Tea and Rocky (Lilly) has now disappeared. We haven't seen her for over a week, and she would normally come hang out with me while I was in the yard. Her owners were neglectful rednecks, so I would give her water and attention. Now I'm afraid she too has fallen victim to the hard streets of Petal, Mississippi.

Cazzie!!! said...

My kids want wonna dem dawgs..very very cute!!

MrsCoach2U said...

Ahhh...how cute! Although some poor little tot is missing their Easter ducky at least Tank got lucky!!!!

Peg said...

That is the most adorable beagle pup.

We have a new lab/shep mix, I call her a sheprador. She was sick yesterday which had me sitting at work reading about rice water diarrhea treatments. The things we do for wet noses...

Hillbilly Mom said...

Miss Ann,
I must have overlooked the sign. I was sure he was dead or dognapped.

Cazzie,
He was a Christmas present to my boys from their older brother, The Veteran. He is the cutest little dog I ever saw. He's about 5 months old now.

Mrs.,
I'm just glad he didn't bring home the tot. I really think the big dog, Ann, drug this thing home.

Peg,
The doggie Ann is a lab/shepherd mix, according to the vet. She looks like a black German Shepherd, and has all the characteristics of shepherds. Like chewing, and digging, and herding, and hating to be separated from her 'pack'.

We also have a lab/beagle mix, who looks like a chocolate beagle. He's very calm.

Does your doggie look like the lab or the shepherd? Or a combination? Our neighbors have had three labs over the years, and every one of them came up on our porch to retrieve things to take home. Like shoes, a large metal food pan, ceramic squirrel, turtle, rabbit... (OK, I'm not sorry about the last 3). The final straw was when he got into the goldfish pond and took out the pump.

Peg said...

HM, Sophie looks like a shep from the neck up and a skinny lab down from there.

She's just a puppy so I am sure many exciting "Sophie stole it" moments are in store for us.

Chickadee said...

Oh my goodness! I'm so glad you found him. I don't know how you could concentrate all day...when we first moved into our new home here in the hood two years ago, one of my cats took to hiding. I thought she had gotten out and I was bawling after 10 minutes of searching for her.

Alls well that ends well.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Chick,
I knew that would tug at your animal-lovin' heartstrings. Glad you found your misplaced kitty.