I’m Better at Real Estate
This dog rescue thing has gone off the rails.
So…that last dog that we rescued from Texas, who endured the shelter from hell, the foster from hell and the transporter from hell? He got to Baltimore and settled in nicely to his foster home where he was to stay for a few days until he would be adopted by a woman in Richmond. The adopter was coming to DC. I volunteered Real Estate Dad to pick up the dog in Baltimore because he was driving through the day before adoption day. He met the foster and they transferred the dog into his car and he came home.
Real Estate Dad had been away for a couple days. When he arrived home, the dog goes in our house, jumps on the couch and enjoys some pets from my stepson. Real Estate Dad realizes his wife was too busy (or lazy) to get the mail from the slot right next to the front door, so he opens the door to get the mail. Dog hears the door open, leaps over my stepson, leaps over the two corgis and bolts out the door.
He was in our house for less than 5 minutes.
I wish I could tell you that he came right back. I wish I could tell you he came when called. I wish I could tell you I caught him in the alley behind some houses by the woods. No, I can’t tell you any of that. That jerk was gone for EIGHT DAYS. Every animal rescuer, every animal control officer, every good Samaritan was on the hunt. We set out cameras, food traps, posted signs. It was almost like a real-time video game with people reporting their sightings on the neighborhood message board.
He finally came back and I was thrilled. (Well, the truth is, he was caught. By a 3rd grader. Who had no sophisticated cameras, food traps or signs.)
Two more pups came in to foster from Texas and so I had those guys in my house and the runaway went to another foster home. In an apartment building. Where he can’t reach the elevator button.
Last Saturday we had an event in Reston. It was awesome!
What was not awesome, was the part when I left my fellow rescuers to (wo)man the booth, and I walked 14 feet to Panera to get that delicious pastry ring they have, only to come back to an empty booth. My foster dog ran away.
What. In. the. everloving. F*** !!!!!!
Off we went, looking for this little jerk.
Actually, I don’t mean that because he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. And he loves me! He’s perfectly potty trained, very respectful, a little skittish, and HE LOVES ME!
So, we spent three hours looking. When I say looking, I mean, you have no idea what we put the town of Reston through. This little guy ran across Reston Parkway, and ended up on a golf course in a country club. When I saw how big this course was, I about died. I logged 7000 steps on my new and ACCURATE fitness tracker looking for him. Finally, we had to get out the big guns.
I knew the second I saw them lined up, nicely side by side, that I would be driving one of those golf carts. And I was! (It took some begging.) The Golf Manager let us go out with one of the guys from the pro shop with one of our board members, and then two of us following behind. I’m like giddy because I get to drive the golf cart! We asked everyone on the course and most of them had not seen him. One lady yelled between strokes, “We saw a coyote!” We weren’t taking a poll. I mean, we saw a fox and a beaver but we didn’t shout “GROUNDHOG! GROUNDHOG!” to anyone. Come on lady!
We drove our golf carts through all 18 holes of that country club. Nothing.
We went back to (wo)man our booth, empty handed. People asked if we had any dogs to adopt and well, yes, we do, but he ran away.
After the event I drove through the entire neighborhood around the country club. Every community. Every road. Have you ever been to Virginia? They have a lot of houses there. I mean, A LOT OF FREAKING HOUSES! I know because I’ve sold some of them.
I went home after 2.5 hours of searching, sad that it was getting cold, dark and starting to rain.
Two hours later I was home and scrolling my phone when I got a text. “WE FOUND HIM!”
That little stinker ended up at Fairfax County Animal Control about an hour or two after he ran off from us. I swear he was giggling when we picked him up.
Runaway foster dogs: 2. Melissa: 0
I’m better at Real Estate.