Ok kids, stop your bitching and gather round, Uncle WT is finally going to tell you a story….
It’s hard to imagine how the current financial crisis and me owning a dim-witted dog have anything in common. Well they don’t, so you can stop trying to imagine it. There is however, a link between mortgages and me owning a dim-witted dog. There is also a link between the financial crisis, mortgages, dim-witted dogs and me trying to make a story that’s only a paragraph long into a full-length post.
For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted a beagle, and while I’m not really sure exactly how long that is, on account of my memory being shot (all those drugs have certainly taken a toll on the old grey matter, but it’s at least 7 years, because that’s how long I’ve had one, and I’m assuming I wanted one before that).
It all started here I think, not only did that beagle appear in their print adds, but it also did some cute things on their TV commercials too, and every time I saw it I said “I’ve always wanted a beagle!” (which we all know was bullshit, because I had never even given it a thought before I saw the adds, but for the sake of the story we’ll go with it).
Well, one day as I was looking for free things in the free ad section of the free local newspaper, I spotted a beagle up for adoption at the local shelter. I spoke to MDW about it and she didn’t think it was a good idea, and needing no more prompting than that, I went up to have a look at him. As luck would have it, I couldn’t see him as he was in the infirmary with multiple health issues (it’s only just now as I write this that I realise someone must have stolen the clapper out of my alarm bell, cause I sure as shit didn’t hear it ring!). They said that I could see him in three days, which happened to be the weekend; oh good, MDW could see him too! And yes, she was a thrilled as you’d expect a person who didn’t think it was a good idea.
So come the weekend, in that usual state of manic excitement I get when I have hatched a really stupid plan, I grabbed MDW and headed back to the shelter. MDW was in her usual, ‘fuck, not again’ mode. We went to the office and told them we were here to pick up the beagle, they gleefully replied “that’s great, he’s all yours once we’ve vetted you, and the 30 people already lined up to look at him have decided that they don’t want him“. This I took to be a good omen (yeah I know, what can I saw, I was in my manic phase).
Heading down to the enclosures I was relieved to find that they had seriously exaggerated the situation in order to prevent me from being too over confident, I swear there were no more than 28 people lined up, and half of them were kids anyway! While everyone had their turns, we were able to get a look at him. He was a good looking little guy, and really quiet, he just sat there through all the poking and prodding of the little furless animals, many of which should have been on the other side of the protective barriers, I’m telling you some of those kids were feral!
Bizarrely, most of the people checking him out seemed to be unimpressed with how quiet he was, now that I think of it, he was actually more catatonic than quiet, but anyway we got down to the last family, and they seemed to present some pretty stiff competition, but one there was a weak link on their team. While mum, dad and the young boy went in to pet the pooch (ooh that sound’s dirty), the young daughter would bit to go in with them, rather she stood on the other side of the fence saying “ooh, I love him daddy, let’s get him“, her father was not convinced, so he kept telling her that he wouldn’t get him unless she came in an actually touched him, which she steadfastly refused to do. At this point the father led everyone out of the cage in disappointment, and as he passed me said “he’s all yours”, with a somewhat baleful look on his face, not unlike the one the beagle had.
It was finally our turn! We went in and he just sat there motionless with those big ole beagle eyes pleading with us to get him out of this mess! MDW said, we should see what he’s like to take for a walk, so I asked the girl if we could do just that, she said “sure,” and gave us a lead. This is where things got really interesting!!
Everything was going just fine, he bounced along like a new dog, sure he tugged on the lead a little but that’s nothing that couldn’t be fixed easily enough (wrong! fast forward 7 years…I never did manage to fix it, and not through lack of effort either), but then we hit the grass. Holy Shit!
No sooner did we reach the grass, than he just folded his front legs by his side and using only his back legs for propulsion, proceeded to run his head and chest along the grass in a snake-like manner. Both MDW and I stopped dead in our tracks and just looked at each other in stunned silence, which was broken by the most uproarious laughter I can ever remember. We have since named this action ‘grass surfing’, and he still does it (though just for fun these days). We found out out later that he was doing it because he had one of the worst flea infestations they’d ever seen. Poor bastard was locked in a concrete and wire cage all day, the itchies must have been sending him crazy.
Right about now, a sane person would have put him back in his cage and slowly backed away. I’ve never been accused of being sane. More later…