The guest

Animals seem to find us.  I’m not complaining.  And it’s not like we’re Noah and the Ark, inviting them in.

But still, they do seem to arrive, for good or ill.

And now there are three.

Tonight, as we were driving home from a wedding, we saw a large black dog with longish hair running south in the midst of Nall Avenue – a very busy street – with tongue hanging to the ground. 

It was clear that it was lost, in a panic, thirsty.

We drove by it at first, but then circled around, fearing it’d be hit.

Dog frenzy:  Cindy manages Linus at left, Riley in the middle, and our guest.

Another car had stopped, the women sharing our concern.  We stopped too, and we jumped out.  I managed to coax the dog to the grassy yard along the street.  And eventually, he and I came to terms … he would sit when I suggested he sit.  And soon, he actually sat next to me and allowed me to grab his collar.

The collar had no tags.

Cindy raced home to get a leash and a bowl of water.  And when she returned, we put the leash on him and urged him in the car.  He jumped in, no problem.  He wouldn’t drink  … not yet.  His eyes spun ‘round, nervous, unsettled.  But his tail wagged. Sure, briefly, but it moved in a positive way.

We arrived at the house and Cindy let our dogs – Linus and Riley – out the back before they knew what was up. And then we brought the guest in.

While I called the cop shop to let them know about our stray, Cindy tried to settle him down.  We had water, food and so forth.  But dogs must check out territory first.  And this one did.  He stopped short at Riley’s stuffed animals scattered on the floor, giving them a good sniff.  He found the food and water bowls, but he was still too ill at ease to drink or eat.  He moved through all the rooms.

Meantime both our dogs were barking out back, knowing something was amiss. 

We had to introduce the three.  If only to stop the barking.

Riley would be first.  We reasoned that by being the female, she would be the most accepting of a new male in her midst.

Unfortunately, Riley is a bit shy.  Yes, she’s a Golden Retriever, full of energy.  But when it comes to other dogs, she literally goes belly up.  I’ve tried to take her to dog parks, but when she sees another dog – male or female – she flops on her back, all her legs spread wide.

A range of  “I mean you no harm” to “Don’t hurt me!”

That wasn’t quite the case here. After all, this was home … her territory. Not some field in a park. We thought she might be more aggressive.

We let her in, and she immediately saw the dog.  She dove for one of her stuffed animals, grabbed it, and ran toward the stranger.  She slid like a ball player stealing second, stopping just short of his black wall of fur. 

And as she slid, she peed a puddle that seemed a lake.

We didn’t criticize.  We knew this was traumatic.  After all, she and Linus had built a predictable lifestyle for the last decade.  Now, suddenly, shy Riley had two males to consider.

Now to Linus.  His small barks grew more incessant, not understanding why Riley was allowed in but he was not. 

Figuring the worst was over for Riley, we let Linus enter.  And he did amazingly well.  Sure, he growled here and there.  He also peed where Riley peed … that territory thing. But stern warnings from us balanced with lots of “Good boy!” seemed to convince him that it’d be better to accept this stranger than to do battle.

So we cleaned the floor.  No big deal. 

Now I’m writing this as all three dogs sleep peaceably in our bedroom.  The black one seems settled at last.  When we got back to the room he immediately jumped on our bed.  Clearly his habit.  But I ordered him down, and he obeyed.  Smart dog.

One small concern: He seems to scratch now and then. Fleas?  Hope not.  Though it wouldn't be the first time for us. 

We texted photos of the visitor to our kids.  Zach thought him cute.  Meghan suggested we name him “Wiley” as a contrast to “Riley.”

Personally, I hope the owner finds us soon.  This dog is well trained and of good demeanor … a sure sign that someone loves him, deeply.  I suspect the owner is in anguish right now.  I would be.

We’ll know more in the next couple of days.

And a final thought as midnight passes. We experienced both thunder and fireworks tonight as the weather conspired with the annual 4^th celebration. 

Not that I don’t enjoy the noise. But it’s clear our newcomer can’t tolerate storms well, nor the bangs of liberty.

Neither can our own dogs. 

So it’s possible that on Sunday and even more so on Monday, the weather and fireworks will mean a time of not-so-quiet desperation for our trio.

And us.

It’s not a major thing. After all, I’m sure Noah suffered the thunder.  It came with the mission.

But he certainly didn’t suffer the fireworks.

“Found: Large black dog, long hair, good disposition.  Running south on Nall Avenue.  Likes to sleep on bed.  Hates fireworks and thunder. Identify his collar, and he’s yours.”