Almost Lost Stupid Dog

Yet more proof as to why we called Chops a Stupid Dog, and another reason to question how I didn't completely go over the edge in dealing with him!


In the summer of 1999, we were in the process of moving to another house, after selling the one we'd lived in for seven years.  The only problem was that, although we'd found a buyer, we hadn't found a house to move into yet, so we'd made arrangements to stay somewhere else until we did.  However, we couldn't take any of our pets with us, so we booked kennels for the cat and the two dogs.


The dogs were put in cages in the back of the truck we had at the time, and Chops immediately started yipping.  He hated riding in any sort of vehicle, whether it be in the back or the front, but on the way to the kennels, I started feeling sorry for him (stupid me!), and stopped at a Park-N-Ride for the local bus company, thinking I'd let the dogs in the cab of the truck with me, and hopefully stop his yipping, as he sounded very upset and quite pitiful.  I took Sheba, the other dog, out of her cage and led her on the leash to the truck.  She jumped right up onto the seat, I told her to stay and she sat there, waiting patiently.  Then I went to get Chops.


As soon as I grabbed hold of the leash, he was straining at it and trying to get away, and eventually slipped the collar and started running all over the parking lot!  Despite my calling him, first starting out nice and then getting irritated that he wouldn't come to me and chasing him all over, I still couldn't get the stupid dog to come to me and get in the truck.  There was just no way he had any intention of getting into that truck again!


Finally, I gave up and went ahead and took Sheba to the kennels and signed her in, getting that taken care of, and then drove back to the Park-N-Ride to look for Chops again, still furious about the whole thing.  Sure enough, he was still there, running all over the parking lot and having a good old time.  I finally got so frustrated that I got in the truck and started driving home, completely giving up on the whole thing and way past angry.


As I drove off, I glanced in the side view mirror and noticed, about a block behind me, Chops running like crazy to try to catch up with me, the little brat!  I stopped at an apartment parking lot along the way, got out and he was still running from me and wouldn't come near me, probably since I was yelling my head off at him by then!  So I got back in the truck and started driving away.  Once again, I looked in the mirror and there he was, running behind the truck.  When I came to the next parking lot, I stopped again, thinking there was no way I was ever going to catch the idiot, and mumbling to myself that I didn't know why I was even trying, but apparently,  and luckily, Chops had worn himself out from all that running.


There he was, about five feet from the truck, panting like mad and not even trying to get away, completely exhausted, so I took advantage of the situation and picked him up, almost throwing him into the truck cab, yelling at him as I did.


All the way back to the kennels, he made no noise whatsoever, aside from heavy panting as he tried to catch his breath.  Not a yip out of him.  I got him to the kennels and inside and checked in, then finally went back out and breathed a sigh of relief once I was back in the truck.


That was the closest I'd ever come to doing some serious bodily harm to an animal.  Another reason I refuse to ever have a male dog again.


I have to admit, though, that when I think about it now, the thought of the sight of him in the side mirror, ears flapping as he was running behind the truck makes me smile a bit.  Stupid dog.