Saturday, April 18, 2009

I Guess They're More "Cat" People

The other day I noticed there was a large rabbit sitting in the street in front of our house. I didn't think much of it until I came back from dropping the kids off at school and it was still there. I went over to it, got about 5 feet away and it hissed at me. It's neck and head was moving but the rest of the body was lying still. Well, I don't need to be hissed at twice; and I remember the killer rabbit from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" and "Spamalot", so I bravely shouted, "Run Away!!!" and ran inside.

After a few minutes, I started feeling guilty because, after all, we just had a visit from this guy's cousin, the Easter Bunny, last week. So I looked out side and I saw a couple of crows approaching the rabbit. By the time I got to the door, they had started pecking at him. The sound of the door scared them away. I'm not a huge fan of birds in the first place, but I really hate crows so I thought I'd better do something.

I called the local animal shelter; got a recording. I called the Humane Society; I got the number for a company that would come and remove the rabbit on my dime. No thanks. So then I called the local police and explained the situation. I turned the police scanner on and heard the dispatcher make her call. Somehow it got turned into a "rabid raccoon" call. After about 5 minutes the officer pulled up.

I explained to him that it was a rabbit and not a raccoon. He looked at it and said that there have been a couple of reports of rabid raccoons that he'd "taken care of". He got out his snare and hooked the rabbit. It immediately freaked out and let out a squeal like a hungry newborn baby. Then he said, "Well, I have to shoot it".

"OK", I said stupidly, "Where?"



The officer said, "Well is there a place to do it in the back yard?"


"Do you want to bury it?"

"What?!? No! Hell no! We just got a new dog. I don't want him getting into that. The garbage truck is coming this morning. Can we put it in the trash?" I asked.

"Sure, you get a bag and I'll meet you in the back", the officer said.

I went inside and retrieved a garbage bag and got out to the backyard just in time to see the officer unholster his weapon and BAM! He brought the corpse, still in the snare, over and we shoved it in the bag. Meanwhile I notice many of our neighbors peeking out the doors to see what the hell was going on. I shot them a smile and a little wave. They, mostly, shut their doors or blinds.

It wasn't until later, after the rabbit was safely in his 45 gallon Rubbermaid sarcophagus, that I thought what must the neighbors be thinking; seeing me standing there with with a cop, the smell of gunpowder wafting through the air, shoving a bloody animal (which was about the size of our new dog) into the trash.

"Well, so much for their new dog." "Didn't even make it a week." "I thought you could take them back to the shelter." "Let's never ask them to watch OUR dog." "Maybe they're more 'cat' people."

Lewis was at the vets for the day. I think a couple of our neighbors were relieved to see him come home.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Lewis, the Rescue Dog

On Good Friday, we loaded the family in the van (or as I've started calling it "Jughead") for a trip to the wilds of Northwestern Pennsylvania to the Pekingese Rescue that Nancy found. She has decided that for her ##th birthday (I'm not allowed to divulge the exact number under penalty of death), she wanted a dog; a little dog. Everyone else in our family has dogs that resemble Shetland Ponies more than dogs, so almost any dog is a small dog. My criteria is a bit different and cruder. If the dog's poops are bigger than mine (and that's saying something), I don't want it .

Anyway, we get the dog from the rescue; which is a whole other blog post; and make it home. He's a sweet, quiet dog (except for his snoring) and he's checked out "A-OK" with the vet, had a bath and a trim. After close to a week, I'm happy we got the perfect dog for us.

Clay has been telling everyone he knows that Lewis is a "rescue dog". We told him how another family had Lewis who's new baby was allergic to him and that he was given to the Pekingese rescue. We then found him and brought him into our family. Then yesterday I heard Clay telling our neighbor about Lewis being a "rescue dog". It wasn't until I did a double take and really started listening to him that I found out what Clay thought a "rescue dog" was.

"Lewis is a Rescue Dog!", says Clay.

"What does that mean?", asks his friend.

"You know, a Rescue Dog. He helps people and other animals and he can talk to them."


"Well, you know, he talked to the Easter Bunny the other day. He told him that he liked his new family. The Easter Bunny wrote us a letter and told us", says Clay.


"Yea, so whenever an animal needs help, Lewis the Rescue Dog will be there."

Now, I think we need to get a cape and a mask for Lewis to protect his identity.