Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Call me crazy...

...because I am!

Yesterday I claimed to have the flu and I certainly felt flu like. Aches and chills, and a certain feeling of confusion. But was it a virus, or was it PUPPIES???

Yes, that is in the plural. You see on Sunday, out of the blue, a small thin man walked up our drive and he had with him two small animals on chains. They loped along tiredly beside him in 90 plus degrees. Who was he, and why was he coming up our drive and with such purpose in his stride. In a hurry to head him off, I went out onto the porch and sat down on the front door step. With a tired look matched only by the pups’ drooping chins, the gentleman wiped his brow and asked for my second oldest son. By now, excited faces were pressed against the porch door and one child raced off to find said son.

While he waited patiently for my son to appear the puppies flopped down and chewed on my sandals and each other until my husband joined us. As Hugo scratched the puppies’ humongous ears the man finally divulged his business.
“Y’all give me ten dollar, and a’ll give ya them dawgs.”

I looked at the exhausted wee things and said in Spanish to my husband – give him the ten dollars and we’ll take the poor things to the SPCA. My husband nodded and the fellow continued to chat in a language foreign to my understanding. I understood a few words, but his southern accent was so heavy it was difficult to decipher much of what he said. We did understand one thing – “Don’t fed ‘em all ta'geder or them'll fight!”

Small wonder I thought – the poor things are skin and bones. I asked him if they were maybe 12 weeks, he nodded and wiped the sweat off his brow again. It was obvious he was ready to go. I asked the kids to get the poor puppies some water while my husband dug into his pocket and pulled out a five and four ones. We were a dollar short.
“Never you mind,” he said, “I see yo’ son around all da time. He can give me a dollar any ol’ time. “

Stuffing the loose bills into his pocket he called to one of the pups gruffly, causing it to lean into my young son’s side.
“C’meer dawg!" Sssvet he whistled. "Get over here dawg. You be good booboo – you be good now!”

With that, he rumpled the pup’s ears, and sauntered off into the hot Sunday afternoon.

I stood up and shooed everyone out of the heat into the house and amidst the excited giggles and yelps I said determinedly;
“Now, the pups are only here until we can get them to the SPCA. “

The pups now named, Zack for Zackaria and Ares, are STILL here and while the aches and pains are fading – I am still experiencing a sense of confusion.

What can I say – except… call me crazy.
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