I was up in my computer room the other night doing what I usually do in my computer room; blogging (you where thinking ‘watching porn’, weren’t you?).
Anyway, I had something I needed to write down, but I had left my notebook on the table (the old, paper version notebook), so I twaddled downstairs to get it. As I came down the stairs something big and furry saw me before I saw it and scooted out the open backdoor and forced itself through the security gate.
I wasn’t sure what I had seen, it was brown, wet and from the little part of it’s ass I saw slipping through the grill, I surmised that it might have been a dog. A dog!? The openings in my gate are little 10cm squares, which doesn’t make for a very big space to squeeze through, but this little whatever-it-is managed.
I realised though that it hadn’t run around the house and out the front gate and away, so it was hiding in my long grass somewhere. Seriously, my grass is long. It’s not average suburban kind of grass that I have growing in my garden, oh no, it’s ferocious, resilient, will-one-day-inherit the earth kind of tropical jungle grass and a month (or so) after having last cut it, it’s already standing 3 foot tall again.
So hiding in the grass is well viable, even for a small dog. Hell, it would be viable even for a big dog, or a small elephant.
I unlocked the gate and peeked outside. The trail of flattened grass pointed out, like a neon sign, into which corner it had run and where it was now cowering under a few up right strands. It was raining lightly and, quite unlike here, it was cold. I called for it a few times, but it only cowered harder. I fetched an umbrella and did a Livingstone through the long, secondary tropical rain forest-type grass.
“Ah! Dr. Livingstone, I presume?”, I muttered to myself as I cleared the jungle and knelt down to make my appearance less intimidating. I’ve been bitten by a wide range of scared and vicious canines in my life, so I know an intimidated dog is not a nice dog. I stretched out my hand for it to get a whiff of me, hoping that it’ll like what it smells (I never know, in this instance, is it good or not good to bath regularly?).
After a few minutes of introducing myself to the small, brown-furred dog, I reached out to pick it up and it retreated a little bit, but didn’t make any serious attempt to avoid capture. I carried it to the back door of my house – there’s a little semi-outside, gated area before you go into the main house, so I put it there to observe it. Cold, shivering and scared.
By the condition of it’s coat it was apparent it had been away from home for a while already. I checked for skin lacerations and broken anything, but a superficial inspection yielded nothing. At first I toweled it dry and discovered my visitor was female. After wrapping her up and trying to feed her, she was shivering and extremely smelly.
A lukewarm bath sorted out both issues, and after being toweled dry from that, I put her down on the floor on some old coat and covered her with a t-shirt. She was snug and warming up, looking a little better.
Julia came over some time later and gave her a whole bunch of attention. The dog looked a little lethargic. We went to dinner, and John and Phyllis dropped me back home, and they showered her with attention as well. She was still lethargic, but seemed to perk up a bit every time she was flooded with attention.
The next day, which was yesterday, John and Julia took her to the vet for some inoculations. They had discovered a tick or two on her and wanted to sort that out. This evening when I got home she was almost glad to see me, but ran back to the corner where I had made her bed to cower a bit more. She was approachable though and looked a little more vibrant.
We’re not allowed to bath her for 3 days following the injection, so tomorrow we’ll take her to the doggy parlour for a proper bath and to sheer her coat which is all dredd-locky. We’ll then attempt to find the owners, because this is obviously a people dog and must have a family somewhere.
Having already grown attached to the dog, it might well be a bit of a half-hearted effort. In the meantime, I’ve dubbed her Poochie.