Tuesday, March 28, 2006

AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

...but that's enough about me... how are you all?

So I worked Saturday for about 5 hours, then went to my parent's house as my sister and niece were up visiting. Enter lots of games, lots of laughs, and a late night. But that's okay, right? It was Saturday!!!

So I wake up Sunday morning, having spent the night at my parents since it was so late when we finished what felt like our millionth game of pictionary... It was about 9 a.m. I go upstairs to the living room, where my father and mother and sister are watching a sermon on television... Whoop-dee. But I look around...

"Where's my dog?" I ask. "Out on the deck with Cheyenne?" (Their dog.)
"Shh..." My mother waves her hands as she says this.
"Well, I let him out this morning to go to the bathroom..." And he trails off.

Now, let me say, my dog does like to run away when he's bored! This is like the sixth out of seven times they've watched my dog and he's run off (that might be a slight exageration). Now don't get me wrong, he's run away on me, too. Usually when my stupid-ass neighbors feel like they need to tell me trivial, unimportant things about themselves and their families.

But I'm not upset. He always, always comes home in an average of three hours. So I go outside, have a ciggie (Oh, yeah, FYI, the quitting didn't stick--round two next weekend) and yell his name a few half-hearted times. I go back in. Mom's crying about something the pastor said, getting caught up in her own type of religious hysteria. Dad looks up and says, "Any sign?"
"Nope. What time did he run?"
"About seven-thirty."
"Okay, he's got about an hour and a half left. I think I'll call the gate."
"No, don't do that," my dad says. He's hoping to avoid a fine for having an unleashed dog running around, but since he always comes back, I just drop that line of thought.

Now, reader, calm yourself. I am not callous. Just a realist. Plus, this isn't like center-city New York or anything... It's in the Pocono's, bordered by state game lands, and lots and lots of deer and forest. And he always comes back. Now what I didn't count on is some goody-two-shoes hick with a chip on her shoulder. At about noon, I'm worried, but I won't let it show, cause I know my family will want to "pray" for him. Rich knows I'm worried, too, but he keeps my family distracted like a good husband so they won't get on my nerves.

Me and Dad hop in the truck about one and start circling the surrounding area. Nothing. Then my mom decides she would like to go with me to pick up something locally I won on eBay... I don't want to leave until Hawthorne is back, but I know my being there won't change anything either, so we go, and it was a nice three hour distraction.

But when I get back, my dog is still no where around. I decide, Dad be damned, I'm letting the gate know I'm missing my dog. I'll pay the damn fees (stupid fascist home-owners association!), I just want Hawthorne back!

After I call the gate ("No, Hawthorne, not Popcorn. About 50 pounds, looks like a big Jack Russell Terrier with big brown cow spots."), I begin calling around to local animal shelters, leaving about three messages before there's a knock at the door. I hear Mom yell, "Answer that!" (Yeah, like I'm going to ignore the knock?), and when I open the door, there's a rent-a-cop.

RAC: You lose the dog?
Me:(Hopeful) You found him?
RAC: He a pit bull?
Me: Uhh...
RAC: Choker collar?
Me: He breaks all the normal collars...
RAC: Licensed?
Me: Not really...
RAC: Rabies?
Me: Oh, no-no-no, he doesn't have rabies! (Nervous laugh.)
RAC: No, is he vaccinated against rabies?
Me: Oh, of course!
RAC: He a pitty?
Me: Pity? (Confusion at this apparent straight-guy lingo we've morphed into...)
RAC: Pitbull?
Me: Well, half...
RAC: You feed him? He looks awful skinny...
Me: Oh, you did find him! (Spirit soars!)
RAC: You feed this dog?
Me: What? Of course I feed him.. He eats three full bowls of food a day! Listen, did you find my dog or not?
RAC: He's on the other side of the mountain.
Me: Okay... (Is that close? Is that bad? Spirits nearing depths of despair...)
RAC: Got a car?
Me: Yes... (No, you stupid fuck, we have three cars in the driveway with three obviously-older-than-sixteen people in the house, but no car. Dumbass.)
RAC: Follow me...

I so wish I was making this shit up...
So I follow him about six miles--in a car, belive it or not--to a small, nondescript house tucked away in the woods. He pulls over and puts on his four-ways, so I do the same and quickly exit my car. I see my dog (and he sees me and begins whining and yipping), but RAC grabs my arm before I can go up to the house.

RAC: He licensed?
Me: Um, no... (Oh, God, we have to do this again!)
RAC: You know that's a fine...
Me: Fine, write up the ticket, I'm going to get my dog.

So I walk (jog... okay run) up to the house. My dog is chained to a post on, I shit you not, a foot-long leash. 1. Foot. That's 12 inches. This doesn't immediately register, as I'm so happy to see him. I unhook him as a woman exits the house to stand next to him and me as I hug him and he licks me to death.

Hick:He yours?
Me: Yes, thank you! (No, I randomly walk up to people's houses with a rent-a-cop and pet peoples dogs and let them off their leashes! You mean you don't?)
Hick: Friendly pup. He a pitty?
Me: Half... (Why do people ask this all the fucking time? Is there a pitbull version of Cujo that I haven't seen?)
Hick: He's awful skinny... Ate a bowl of food that I gave him...
Me: Yeah, well, he's always hungry!
Hick: You feed him?
Me: Yeah, three bowls a day! He's got a fast metabolism that I envy!
RAC: Sir, you have a leash for him?
Me: Uh, yeah, it's right there in the car.
RAC: Well, son, until he's on the leash, please do not let the dog off the porch leash.
Me: No, it's okay, I'm going to put him in the car now--
RAC: Son, leash the dog, then go procure your leash, and then you may transfer the dog to your vehicle.
Me: But--
RAC: Sir, please do not make me repeat myself.
Hick: (To RAC) He feed that dog?
RAC: He says he does...
Me: (Coming back from the car, losing patience) Three bowls a day. He has a very fast metabolism.
Hick: Sure is skinny little fellar. Ate a whole bowl of food here, he did.
Me: Yeah, um, can I offer you money or something? (No shit Sherlock, I just told you he eats three fucking bowls a day! Of course he'll eat something if you put it in front of him, he's a fucking DOG, you dumb shit!)
RAC: Now, son, I'll need to see proof of licensing for this dog within 7 days. Can you produce proof of licensing this dog within seven days?
Me: Yeah, if I need to.
Hick: You need dog food or something?
Me: No, thank you--
RAC: I'll need to fine you a couple hundred if you don't.
Me: Yeah, sure, no prob--
Hick: You ain't from here, are ya? You talk funny... What is that accent?
Me: Accent? (I talk funny?)
RAC: You don't live here? Who's house were you in?
Me: (Unsure who to answer) I, uhh, grew up near Philly, I live near Lehighton now, just up--
Hick: I suppose you sound like you're from Philadelphia.
(Well, I'm so glad I sound legitimate to you!)
RAC: Lehighton? Son, can I see some ID?
Me: Yes, um, here's my driver's license (Handing him my wallet)
Hick: Why you up in these parts?
Me: Visiting my folks... (None of you business, maybe?)
RAC: I can give you ten business days.
Me: For what?
Hick: I thought you was raised in Philadelphia?
RAC: To show proof of licensing of the pet.
Me: They moved up he-- Oh, yes, okay, do you have an address I can mail that to? (Oh my fucking word! Did I die and go to hell? Is this where gay people spend eternity, in hickland surrounded by idiots?!? Help, someone!!!!)
Hick: He's been here since about 8 a.m. When did you notice he left?
Me: When I woke up.

So, to make a long story barely shorter, I got the damn dog licensed, ran him to the vet to realize he sprained his ankles either chasing deer or dealing with a leash made for rats, am currently mailing out the proof of licensing to make sure I don't pay a damn fine, did not get to relax due to worry, my dad feels guilty as hell for this but won't admit it and instead would rather ignore the whole issue, and Rich has the whole week off and is spending it in Maryland visiting his brother, sister-in-law, and new nephew....

BTW, I also had overtime tonight. So much for quality alone-time.

I want someone to license me. Apparently I talk funny.

7 comments:

Bill said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Bill said...

Ahh, Rent-a-cops(RAC) the cost saving way of avoiding paying real cops with benefits, while employing the otherwise unemployable.

The following is my favourite rent a cop story.

I spent most of my teens and twenties working at two bit jobs and backpacking around Europe. When I finally decided that going to university might be a good idea, I was about 36.

So one day I am in the university centre studying, with copious piles of books around me and an oversized backpack also full of books.

It is about mid January, and cold as Alaska (for my fellow Canadians I would have said Iqualuit) outside, but having dumped my coat at the history student association lounge office I am in jeans and a polo shirt.

After a few hours of studying I lean back on the arm of the bench I am sitting on and fall asleep, with a text book on my chest. This is where my RAC shows up.

RAC - Excuse me sir 'Poke' Excuse me sir 'Poke Poke'

Me - What the $%^

(I wake up to see a RAC with a brush cut, nicely pressed uniform, and a walkie talkie strapped to his shoulder starting down at me with a “I’m your worst nightmare” look on his face, poking me with a flash light, and just to note it is about 2:00 pm, I guess the flashlight is the RAC substitute for a nightstick)

Me - Sorry you startled me

RAC - Your going to have to leave campus?

Me - why?

RAC - you can't sleep on University property.

(I must have been tired because it hasn’t occurred to me yet that this idiot thinks I am some kind of street person - what did my deodorant quit and have the tears in my jeans become that noticeable? I know I shaved.)

Me - I was just studying between classes and must have dozed off

RAC - ‘cough’ yeah sure, can I see your student ID then?

(I guess he missed the books, the notes, the backpack with the university logo on it, and the fact that I was clean and Oh yeah I just walked in from sub zero weather without a coat- I guess if your over 30 and have an earing you must be a vagrant)

Me - sure (handing the genius my card)

RAC - Try not to fall asleep in the unicentre again (hands me back my card and leaves)

Jason, it’s not the hicks it’s the profession. An RAC is a person that wants to be a cop but lacks the mental capacity and given the IQ requirements of some police forces, this does not say much for RAC’s.

Kelly said...

Yep, sounds like the good ol' mountain boys up there.

At least Hawthorne is back!

Maybe if you fed him more, he wouldn't run away. ;)

Dar said...

I'm glad you have him back. I'm really glad you have him licensed now. It's the responsible thing to do, especially since he has a history of running off.

The rescuers were really on you about it, but there are alot of abusers and neglecters out there. Think about how would you react to finding a skinny, unregistered, half pit-bull with sprained ankles?

Just a side note: Some whack job here in Michigan has taken to beheading loose dogs and cats. How sick and sad is that!?

Jason Hughes said...

Bill:
That's funny! Yeah, RAC's get on my nerves 'cause they're on an unsubstantiated power-trip full-time. I hate people on power-trips... but then again, who doesn't....

Kelly:
You're so funny... :D Nah, he just runs away when no one is keeping a close eye on him cause he gets bored and follows his nose wherever it goes... I should have called him Toucan Sam...

Dar:
That is sick! I hope they catch the mtherfucker... I hate it when people are cruel to animals, it pisses me off. I love that show Animal Cops on Animal Planet.

And I do understand (sort of) about the whole skinny, run-away pitbull, but it's not like he's so skinny his bones are showing and shit... He's very muscular, extremely friendly, and, well, skinny. He's very much an atheltic dog, which begs that whole rumor about animals being like their owners. :D I like putting on his runner in the backyard and just watching him run in cricles back and forth around the yard--cracks me up! He may have ADHD...

Ergo Sum said...

Gosh! What drama your life is!

:) Keep blogging! Soon, you'll have an avid reader from India!

Jason Hughes said...

Bill:
That's funny! Yeah, RAC's get on my nerves 'cause they're on an unsubstantiated power-trip full-time. I hate people on power-trips... but then again, who doesn't....

Kelly:
You're so funny... :D Nah, he just runs away when no one is keeping a close eye on him cause he gets bored and follows his nose wherever it goes... I should have called him Toucan Sam...

Dar:
That is sick! I hope they catch the mtherfucker... I hate it when people are cruel to animals, it pisses me off. I love that show Animal Cops on Animal Planet.

And I do understand (sort of) about the whole skinny, run-away pitbull, but it's not like he's so skinny his bones are showing and shit... He's very muscular, extremely friendly, and, well, skinny. He's very much an atheltic dog, which begs that whole rumor about animals being like their owners. :D I like putting on his runner in the backyard and just watching him run in cricles back and forth around the yard--cracks me up! He may have ADHD...