*Poof*

My plans for the day included a hike near here.

Today was one of those spectacular Oregon days, with a sky so blue and air so clean and easy to breathe that you hate to spend any time indoors. It was a day to spend playing in the good weather that we have before the winter rain sets in.

Wallawa Lake, where John is right now, and this is his photo.

Knowing that John is conducting a field class with graduate students, spending the week in a splendid mountainous environment in eastern Oregon, I was left to decide for myself how to spend my own day. So I packed a bag of snacks and treats, a water bottle, leashes, and loaded Ed and Reub in the back of the Subaru. Time for a hike!

Poof

But you know, sometimes I get my heart set on something, head out to do it, and *poof* it doesn't happen. I had barely driven out of the neighborhood when I saw a man waving at me with one hand to slow down, his other hand gripping the leash of a golden retriever. Careening cluelessly back and forth across the road was a huge gangly gray dog. I avoided hitting him and proceeded another 20 seconds, picturing the awesome hike I had planned to take, before turning back. Sigh.



"He's not my dog!" the man was quick to tell me, as I handed him a spare leash and a handful of treats through my window. "See if he'll come to you for a treat, leash him, and put him in my back seat. " I said. While struggling with his own excited dog he quickly managed to lure the gray dog, who had been trying to follow him anyway, and loaded the stray into my car, the whole time looking nervously to see if we were all about to be rear-ended by some unsuspecting car coming over the hill behind us.


So I had an 80 pound Weimaraner in the car, with Reuben furious in the back, but luckily separated by a sturdy gate, and Eddy puzzled by the turn of events. What was Kerry thinking?

Indeed. He was my problem now.

Leaving Ed and Reub in the car, I took Crazy Gray Boy into the house, his little tail wagging madly, his big body lunging forward, and his nose to the ground. As I grabbed for the phone book, the dog sprang up, paws on the kitchen table, sniffing for food, then again onto the counter top. Nooo! He dragged me into the living room, directly to the corner where John has a collection of African drums. Crazy Gray Boy was quick to note that the drums are made of animal skins! Nooo! Dammit where was the number for Animal Control in the stupid ^%$#!@phone book?

Relax Kerry, it's just an excited dog, I told myself. Feed him and give him some water; maybe he'll settle down. Then you can find the phone number. By this time CGB had located the bag of dog food kept in the laundry and I could tell he was famished. I made him sit politely while I served up his meal. As he wolfed it down I fretted--knowing that his breed and body type are terribly prone to this-- that I might have just given him a case of bloat. Please, not that.

I wanted to leave him in the garage while I left a message at the Humane Society, but he barked and cried. Having to put him somewhere while I brought in Ed and Reub, I put him in a kennel in the back yard where, for about 5 unrelenting minutes he made the neighborhood resound with his Sunday-morning barking.

By this time it was 10:45, a full hour and 15 minutes before the Humane Society opened. What to do?

Hmmm?

I'm not proud of this, but one thing I occasionally did when the kids were small and unreasonable, was to take them for a car ride. So I apologized to Ed and Reub, loaded up CGB, and drove 30 minutes south to Hazelnut Hill, where I bought chocolate-covered hazelnuts, chatted with the nice lady there, and bought some chocolate-covered blueberries as well. That was fun. CGB enjoyed it immensely. Then I took him to the Humane Society, where I had to fill out a form that explained to me that just because I found him, didn't mean that I would get to keep him if his real owners didn't show up. For a split second I felt bad. But only for a split second.

No hike today, but I did go for a 35 minute run and Ed & Reub enjoyed it just fine.