As I have previously inferred, my wife and I just returned from a ten day vacation; thus, the reason I have posted very few recent daily blogs, and perhaps the reason I have gotten only a smattering of recent "views,"
... (though for the life of me I can't understand this trend, as there are almost 700 in the "archives" just begging to be read by my avid fans).
At any rate, while we were in the thriving metropolis of (drum roll)... Jessup, Georgia visiting our son and his family, my grandson and I decided to take a walk down the country road which runs in front of his house.
I suppose we had walked all of a hundred feet when a little non-descript white dog, and an apparently healthy white, brown and black beagle run out of a nearby yard to "greet" us. The white one was all "yap" and proceeded to announce his dominance. Having walked another twenty feet, however, the "no-breed" turned back towards the trailer from whence he came. But the beagle (which for the sake of convenience I shall henceforth refer to as "Beetle") followed us; (and followed us, and followed us).
Curiously enough, as our little trio walked past assorted mailboxes and trashcans, Beetle lifted a rear leg and whizzed on every other one; marking his territory. As Gary and I prepared to turn around, and head for home, a couple of women approached us on golf carts. One of the women spoke,
"Do you guys own that beagle?"
To which I responded,
"Well, no. No, we don't. It just decided to follow us."
With this inquiry, Beetle proceeded to jump onto the floorboard of the golf cart belonging to the initial speaker.
I spoke again.
"Why don't you just take that precious pooch home with you?"
But as curious, and seemingly interested as "Mrs. Doe" had been only a moment before, she responded with,
"Uh. Well, no. I have enough dogs already!"
Beetle must have taken his cue for with this he jumped back down onto the road, and (you guessed it) continued to followed my grandson and I.
Just before we arrived at our starting point, we happened up on a military man who was in the process of checking his mail.
"Do you know who belongs to this dog?" I asked.
To which he replied,
"No, but I've seen him hanging around here for a couple of weeks."
As we walked back into my kinfolk's yard, my grandson bent over and picked up the forty-some pound pooch, and inferred a strong attachment for him. However, it didn't take an Einstein to realize that this would, at best, be a temporary relationship.
For you see, my son and his wife and children are the proud owners of a myriad of outside cats of all different ages, sizes, colors and breeds, and the equally proud owners of one inside brown Chiwawa named "Isabelle" and there simply isn't "room at the inn" for anymore felines or canines.
My not so rocket scientist sorta guess proved to be correct, as my son and his wife assured my disappointed grandson that Beetle was not now, nor would he ever be a welcome guest on their already animal-rich premises. (And since my wife and I were five hours from home at the time, already have a dog, and with our advancing years intend for our little Shih Tzu, Queenie, to be our last, we could not contemplate adopting another).
Not to be deterred, however, Beetle sat outside in the deepening darkness for another hour. And as Jean and I, and our son's family ate supper I could make out his form on the back porch; just outside the sliding glass doors.
As an avid animal lover it didn't help that I was a virtual dog whisperer; since I could almost hear Beetle's unspoken plea.
"Please, open the door, and let me lie under the table awhile. That BBQ pork and macaroni you guys are chowing down on looks too good to resist."
(and)
"We had such a good time earlier, and you seemed to like me. Won't you please let me into your hearts?"
... And then he was gone.
Sadly, all too many little lost pooches wander this world alone, uncared for and unfed.
Here's hoping Beetle soon follows the right person or wanders up to the right door.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 11. Vol.'s 1-15, Copyright 2015
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