I Must Be Psychic

by - August 17, 2011

Last week I was lamenting the fact that I haven't relaxed in 3000 years. You know, relaxing?  hat thing you do where you just go home after work, make a light dinner and watch a movie? Oh you DO know?


So when I had an epiphany which told me that NOTHING pressing had to be done after work one day, and I COULD just sit on my ass for an evening, I grabbed on to that thought and held on for dear life.

How dumb was I when I jokingly said to Dave that day, "Bet you a million dollars something comes up tonight that prevents us from relaxing".  

"What could possibly come up?".


We were FIVE MINUTES from home when we spotted a little dog lying in the grass on the lawn of a school.  I went up to pet the little guy and noticed that something was wrong with him. He wasn't moving his back legs and he was whimpering.


After sticking around for 15 minutes and asking countless people if they knew who's dog it was (no one did), and after calling the Humane Society (no help there) a man came along, saw the poor dog, picked him up and said he would take him to the Humane Society himself.

He asked us to go along with him, as someone would need to hold the dog.  Of course, being upset about the little guy and wanting to make sure he was okay, we said yes.

After driving ALL the way across the city, I started to panic.  I mean, there ARE crazy people all over the place, and was it possible that we were in a psycho's car at that very moment?  My anxiety brain starting running all these scenarios around of my imminent death, and I starting hyperventilating and almost pooped my pants.  I frantically tried to think of how I could safely call 9-1-1, or jump out of the car (I couldn't leave Dave...he heads toward his doom, I do too).  I actually started convincing myself that this guy PUT this crippled dog in that spot to lure nice, animal loving people like us into his car, to drive them across the city to an abandoned industrial area, and to gleefully kill.

Oh look, we were driving towards an abandoned-looking industrial area at that moment...commence shitting in my pants.  I was trying to read Dave's expression in the front seat, and he was starting to look panicked himself.  Oh my god....

Long story short, the guy was a super nice guy.  Goes by the name of Mario.  Because I have a penchant for nicknames, his name is Mario the Serial Killer.

Anyway, back to the dog.  The sweet little pup.  Turns out he wasn't hurt at all...he was crippled and had no use of his back legs.  The Humane Society that we took him to was closed and they didn't accept strays anyway.  I called Animal Control and they told me that someone had to keep him until morning until Animal Control opened, and then to bring him there.  WHERE THEY WOULD MOST LIKELY PUT HIM TO SLEEP.  Ummmm.....NO.

We agreed that Mario the Serial Killer would keep the dog overnight and then he would decide what to do the next day.  He said he most likely would just take the dog to a vet and pay the expenses himself, and then keep the dog.  Did I mention he was a perfectly nice guy?  Breathe Katherine... 

At one point I asked, "Wouldn't it be cool if we drove back to the spot we found him and his owners were looking for him?".  Mario the Serial Killer responded with, "No one leaves their crippled dog on a school lawn to cry like that.  No one with a heart anyway".

For some reason I had a nagging pull to call Animal Control back.  I did, and they asked me if I was holding a Jack Russell terrier who happened to not have any use of his back legs?  Uhhhh.....YES!  

Yeah.....his owners were looking for him.  Psychic or what?

We returned the dog (his name is Zac!) to his parents (who I still think are GIANT douchebags for leaving their crippled, crying dog on a lawn while they went to drink talk to the neighbors, and then we went home.

At 10 o'clock.  

So much for relaxing....but at least we are still alive, right?

You May Also Like