The dog that got away

I only had to watch Razzles the dog for a week. Basically all I had to do was give him food, water, and make sure my dog didn’t kill him. I didn’t think it would be too bad, but I was wrong. Horribly wrong.

I didn’t think that first night would ever end. My dog, Maggie, doesn’t really like other dogs that much, and didn’t want to take part in any form of interaction with Razzles. Unfortunately Razzles had other plans, and followed my dog around as if they were connected by an invisible chain. This did not lead to good results. The majority of my day was spent separating them, over and over again.

I was relieved when the day came to an end, and I found myself climbing into bed. I was worried that I would only find one dog alive the next morning, but nevertheless I found myself falling asleep before I could think much of it. Five minutes later I was awoken by the harmonic sounds of Maggie’s bark and Razzles clawing into one of our doors.

The next morning I put the dogs outside before heading off to school. I thought this would be a win-win situation. Razzles was old, and had virtually no chance of catching up with my dog. Maggie would get in her exercise for the day, and Razzles would hopefully wear himself out. I was energized by the hope of getting more than five minutes of sleep.

I came home, and went straight outside to my deck. Maggie, like always, came to meet me. She was in a much better mood than the day before. I took this as a sign that the day had gone ok, and that my brilliant plan had worked. Then I realized that Razzles was no where in sight. I searched every inch of my backyard and even inside my house, even though I knew Razzles lacked the opposable thumbs needed to open the door (not to mention the height).

I eventually stumbled across a hole next to our fence. Undoubtedly this was where the dog had escaped. My family and I spent at least four hours looking for him. We put up numerous missing dog posters, which mysteriously disappeared the next day. Despite our efforts, we could not find the dog. That night I went to bed with a guilty conscious, but I did sleep more than five minutes.

Razzles was found, but not by me or anyone in my family. The owners received an answering machine message from the pound, telling them where to pick up their dog.

I still can’t figure out how the ancient dog mustered up enough strength to dig his way out of our yard, and flee far enough away to where he could not be found during my search and rescue mission. There is always a possibility that Maggie had helped with the digging and coerced Razzles from our home, but there is no tangible evidence of this. My dog shall remain innocent until proven guilty.

The moral of this story is, don’t leave your pet with someone you don’t trust. More specifically, don’t leave your dog with me.