January 11, 2008

The Escape Artist

So I was pulling into the garage the other night and thought I noticed a shadow or something cross between me and a gardenia bush next to the garage. Didn't think anything of it. Turned off my headlights, opened the door and heard a familiar jingling sound.

The rational brain said, "Hey, uh, why are you hearing what sounds like Trey's tags rattling? He should be in the back yard." The irrational brain responded with "OH MY GOD! WE'RE HAVING A STROKE! WE'RE HEARING PHANTOM NOISES!! IT'S A SIGN!! QUICK! CALL 911!!". The rational brain muttered, "dumbass" as it made my left arm open the car door. When I did, guess what?

Trey was there to greet me. The little bastard got out of the backyard. Fortunately, he didn't go far and he appeared no worse for wear. Today, though, was a different story.

He got out today, crossed the creek that runs behind the fence, and ended up in a neighboring subdivision. A very nice lady put him in her garage, called the vet, and they figured out who he was from the ID on his rabies tag. I left work to go pick him up.

When she opened the garage door and he saw me standing there, he knew he was in deep doodoo. His tail was tucked so far underneath him that it was touching his chin and he wouldn't look me in the eye. He did that "tail tucked" walk all dogs do when I called him...well, to be honest, his was more of a tail-tucked hop, but you get the point. As he gimped towards me, the first thing I noticed was how wet he was. The second thing I noticed was how bad he smelled. He smelled like shit...and I don't mean that figuratively. He was nasty...and since he won't jump into the car, I had to lift him up. Needless to say, I was not a happy camper because I knew I'd have to bathe his stupid, smelly ass before going back to work.

Since it was too cold to bathe him outside, I threw his ass in the guest bathtub. I realized this would be difficult since I'd have to use a cup to get his butt wet and I was right. It was a royal pain to get him wet and rinsing the soap off would have been a nightmare. So...Trey had his first shower. Yep, turned on the shower and it worked like a charm. I was able to rinse him off and the shower was gentle so the water wouldn't get in his ears. He didn't seem to mind, but for a brief instance this reminded me of the shower scene from First Blood. You know the one where they're hosing down Rambo and all the deputies are standing around laughing at him? I think that's when he snaps and starts killing people...so I kept an eye on him to make sure he didn't turn into Ram-Trey.

So...when I got him dried off, the boy and I had to have a talk...well, I talked and he listened. I explained that if he gets out again, I'm going to have one 3leggeddog and one 2leggeddog. I think he got the message. To be safe, I'm going to board up his escape hole. Thinking back, I should have known there was a problem. I noticed someone had taped photos of bikini-clad girls on my fence but I ignored them. Maybe I should have named him "Andy" instead of Trey.