So, to quickly catch those up who are reading of my adventures in volunteering at the Humane Society of Utah (HSU) for the first time, here’s the skinny: It’s day 2. (To really catch up, see my previous two posts.)
The best news is that Lulu, whom I wrote about 2 days ago, got adopted today! And the cool thing was, I was there when it happened and got to meet the adopters. I was stoked!
That said, there are definitely some things one learns the hard way, and today I was quite unexpectedly reminded of that simple fact of life. And I’m pondering whether or not karma, the “what goes around comes around” theory, may offer me justification for sharing that lesson in turn with the one who taught me. But I get ahead of myself…
“It’s true: I have never been a fan of Chihuahua’s…
Today I decided to focus on walking the smaller dogs. I was glad get to spend time with Jack again (such a cool, companionable guy!), although I was sad to see he was still there. Weird juxtaposition. I think you know what I mean when I say I hope I don’t get to spend time with him again.
After Jack, I walked three or four other small dogs, including Bear – a sweet little poodle whom I had noticed with his twin brother two days ago. His brother got adopted, but Bear was left behind. I felt sorry for the little guy; I even wondered if he’d gotten to tell his brother goodbye. He looked frightened, or perhaps just confused by his current situation. I thought it would do him some good to get outside again, although the log showed he’d already been outside a couple of times.
Next, I got a plumpish little Chihuahua whom, to protect the guilty, shall remain nameless. Outside we go, and immediately this dog pees. I don’t even get to cross from the front sidewalk through the parking lot before he’s let go twice. “Wow!”, I thought, “The log showed he’d been out just a few hours earlier.” Finally getting to the grass, the little guy rushes for every dogs favorite tree, and he pees again.
By the time we’d covered another 50 yards, he’d gone at least two or three more times. And then suddenly, he stopped, squatted, and did his business with the other end. So, here’s the set-up: Volunteers carry little bags to pick up the dog doo so it’s not laying all around to get stepped in, and to maintain a clean and healthy environment for the dogs, etc. When Mr. Pees-a-lot has finished celebrating his bowel movement by kicking grass in the air for a good 10 seconds, I dutifully bent over, bag in hand, to retrieve the stinky pile he was so proud of. Would you believe that while he had me distracted with his stinky little poo, that doggone little Chihuahua pissed on my leg! Ankle high, looking me straight in the eye, this excitable little squirt had… well… done a little squirt on the nice guy that was trying to do him a favor!
“I’m thinking perhaps this little guy could sense my true feelings!”
So, okay, it’s true: I have never been a fan of Chihuahuas. I’ve known people who have had them, and I’ve never gotten along with any of their dogs. And they just aren’t a flavor of dog I’d ever choose for myself. Personality clash issues; don’t need a dog as hyper as I am; whatever. I’m thinking perhaps this little guy could perceive my true feelings, and decided he was going to really enjoy getting retribution for those of his breed I’ve scorned in the past.
Well, hear this: You may think you’ve won, little guy, but what goes around comes around and I might see you again tomorrow. And this time it could be me that has the really full bladder. Consider yourself warned!