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Monday, August 01, 2005

Look What Followed Me Home

All of this talk about animals finding their way into my home got me thinking about when I was a kid. It's true, my little apples didn't fall far from the tree. I can recall several times I tried getting my mom to fix an injured animal or at least let me keep those that "followed me home".

I'd like to tell you some very heartwarming story about a puppy that followed me home once. My sister Angie was my accomplice with me that day, and we dragged that little fucker for miles were minding our very own business walking home. This adorable black puppy that we just had to have, was wandering around all alone.

"Ang? You see what I see?"


"Think we can take it without getting bit?"

"It's smaller than your stupid brain Lois. Of course we can take it and if it does bite, it can't be that hard." Angie began calling the dog over to us while patting on her leg. "Pssst, here puppy. Come."

I tried too, "Want some Bubs Daddy? Come here boy."

"Dogs don't chew bubblegum doofus."


When the dog was smart enough to keep his distance didn't come, we grabbed him by his collar and took him for a drag we led him by his collar, gently. He didn't have tags to tell us where he lived, which meant in our minds, he was ours to take.

When we arrived with "Baby" in tow, our mother quickly reminded us that we were renters and could not have a dog. We whined and pouted, begged and pleaded and when that didn't work, we lied saying he followed us home.

"You guys, he is someone's pet. He has a collar."

"But Mommy, (we always called her 'Mommy' when we really wanted something) he doesn't have tags, and he followed us home. If he is someone's pet, someone who takes good care of him, why would he come with us so willingly?"

I watched and listened in awe. The way Angie worked our mother was amazing. The lies she weaved flowed elegantly and effortlessly from her mouth.

Mom caved and let us keep Baby until his owners were found. We found out, not only was Baby not a puppy but he was a poodle. The name "poo"dle made us laugh for hours.

No owner came forward and we were told that it would be our responsibility to feed Baby, take Baby for walks and clean up any mess Baby made. Mom was willing to keep the dog hidden from our landlord just until we could find a new home for him.

Angie never did anything for that dog. He would leave landmines of shit under our bed. She would tell me because I had the bottom bunk, that I was closer to the crap, therefore, I had to clean up the crap. In the kitchen, I always seemed to be closer to the dog food and kitchen faucet than she was, defaulting me to feeding him and getting water in his bowls. I was stupid and Angie was good at manipulation.

Baby eventually went to live with our aunt. From what I remember about losing the dog, we weren't too sad. Maybe because he was staying in the family.

Angie and I, while visiting our mom recently, confessed about dragging Baby home. Mom was rightfully mortified and wanted us to come clean with the rest of the critters that "followed us home".

Ang looked at me. I looked at her. We looked at Mom and said in unison, "You can't handle the truth!"

I can only imagine what kinds of stories my kids will share with me one day. I cringe at the thought.