Dear readers: While I was down in Westlake Village recently, I came upon a little dog that was trying to merge onto 101 northbound on foot — dangerously close to my friend’s Subaru — so I quickly snatched the little hairy pooch up from the underpass and headed to the closest veterinary hospital to seek help. Sure enough the dog was lucky enough to have a microchip, so the veterinary hospital could contact the owner and attempt to reunite the pet with his owner.
I knew that I had left the poor little 10-pound ragamuffin in the hands of a nice group of people who had thanked me profusely and agreed with me that this was one little doggie that was lucky to be alive. At the very least, he would have become a tire tread or been stolen, neither of which were favorable outcomes. So the owner was contacted and soon appeared.
One would expect that once the freewheeling freeway dog and owner were reunited, all would be joyous, but if one did that, one would be sadly mistaken. This pet owner was more than miffed that “a nice vet in the area” had picked up her dog and delivered it to a veterinary hospital. She dialed my number and informed me rather sternly that she was convinced that “Midas” would have found his way home on his own if I had just left the poor creature alone. “After all” she quipped, resolutely, “we only live about a quarter mile away, and he’s a very smart dog! I mean I know you were only trying to help, but now I have to pay to get my dog back, all thanks to you.”
Apparently the veterinary office where I left little Midas charged a small fee to keep him there and reunite him with his owners. They also gave Midis’ mother my business card in order to call me regarding which on ramp he was using for his escape North. Rather than use my phone number to glean information, Midus’ mother used the phone call as an opportunity to tell me to mind my own beeswax and leave pets alone in the future.
Despite the fact that Midas is blind in one eye and had no collar on, she felt I should have somehow known that pets have a sixth sense that humans don’t have, and allowed him a little time to find his way home!
Have you ever been so utterly confounded that your mouth plops open and no words came out? So perplexed by another’s antics that you can’t find a word to say, a syllable to utter? That is where I found myself, on my cell phone in mall parking lot, having done my good deed for the day, thinking I’d saved a pet’s life, then listening to a person all but ask me to come down and bail out her dog from a nearby veterinary clinic that was kind enough to keep her pet for an hour or two. I think I may have managed a minuscule “harumph” and then the line went silent.
Which made me ponder that sixth sense I’m certain dogs and cats really do have. Perhaps little Midas was purposely heading north on 101 for a reason?
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