As a young, curious child I would catch my parents going out of the door and ask where they were going. “To see a man about a dog,” my father would reply. This never cured my curiosity, but certainly cured me from asking this question. I wondered why he was always seeing this man about a dog when he never came back home with one.
However, now that we are all out of the house with families of our own, he has gotten a dog. This dog is probably one of the craziest dogs I’ve ever seen but this is quite fitting considering who is owner is. So of course when my dad got sick a couple weeks ago we all decided no one was going to be taking care of Kujo. We called animal control to come get the dog out of the house. Needless to say my dad has been very concerned about his bestie. He has mentioned to everyone that he needs to return home from take care of his dog despite his inability to take care of himself right now.
This has turned my siblings and I into parent/caretaker mode. These past couple of weeks have been really hard. Not only have I been responsible for my usual adulting, but also having to watch my father in this state has been rough. And it seemed like the clouds opened up and poured down a whole bunch of other grown up problems all at the same damn time.
Overwhelmed would be an understatement to how I’ve been feeling. So I’ve basically just been floating through the days and watching the problems flood around me. I was so exhausted that when Eli wanted to play dog I didn’t even object. He got in the dog kennel and made me lock him inside. Then we put the leash around his waist and let him run all around. When he would stop, I’d pet him and say, “Good boy!” I thought wow this is bad parenting, but this is good exercise and it’s funny as hell. We both got a good nights sleep.
This morning after I dropped him off at school I really wanted to go back home and take a nap. Then all of this adult stuff got in my way. Jack called from the hospital and he said he really wanted someone to get his dog from the kennel so that he wouldn’t be put to sleep. So he gives me the following instructions:
- Go to his friend’s house across the street from the cemetery.
- Ask him to take Kujo in until he comes home.
- If he’s not home leave a message on his chalkboard and tell him to call you ASAP.
- Go to the shelter and pay $300 to save the dog.
- Get a muzzle and bring the dog to the chalkboard house across the street from the cemetery.
Great. Just. Great.
I contemplated if I was actually going to do any of that stuff or just lie and say I did. Then I kept imagining all the future conversations I would have to have with him if I didn’t try to save Ole Rabies mouth.
I drove to the cemetery and saw the chalkboard house to the left of me. I was convinced I was as crazy as Kujo and Jack at this point yet I parked my car and got out. I rang the doorbell and waited. There was no answer. I picked up the jumbo pink chalk and started to write “Call Cutno” and my number. Then the door opened.
Ten minutes later I could not believe this man was actually going to let Kujo come to his house. (But then again he lives across the street from the cemetery). I drove home and felt relieved. The feeling shocked me. I didn’t give one crap about that dog (sorry dog lovers) but I at least wanted to show my dad that we tried to save him and I knew he would be happy.
For the first time in a few weeks I started to feel better. I felt like I could possibly cross some other things off of my to-do list. I felt a little lighter. Seeing a man about a dog was just what I needed today.