About a month ago my husband the scientist and I were seriously considering getting a dog. We ended up deciding that wasn't best for us right now, and my husband joked, "The only way I'm getting a dog is if one shows up at our front door."
Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. We thought the excitement of the day was going to be making an apple pie.
But right as the pie was finishing up, there was a ring at the doorbell. Two runners stood there, wanting to know if we knew whose dog this was.
He was running around the road without a collar, and they were afraid it was going to get hit. Basically, could we take it off their hands so they could get on with their workout?
My husband stared at them, mouth wide open. Then he pointed at me.
"Did my wife put you up to this?" he asked.
The runners looked at him like he was out of his mind and responded in the negative.
So we took the happy hyper dog into the screened-in porch. We had no idea what to do next.
Finally we realized we should contact someone and started calling various places we found online, none of which were open on Saturday afternoon.
The energetic dog was feeling quite cooped up, so we let him out to run around the yard. The non-fenced-in yard. Bad idea.
I ended up running all over the yard, into the road, and into the neighbor's yard before I could wrangle him back into the porch. Barefoot.
We finally called the police department, who would send someone out in about 15 minutes.
"This is an awesome dog," my husband kept saying. "Look at how energetic he is! Look at how smart he is!"
My father-in-law was not impressed.
But it was hard not to be won over by this little guy.
After waiting awhile, my husband started feeling sorry for the restless dog.
"He keeps standing at the door - I think he has to go to the bathroom."
"No. We will never get him back in."
(Pause)
"I really think he has to go. Look at how he's sitting - I think that's a sign."
"No, unless you are going to chase him down. We could barely get him back last time! He just has to wait until the officer comes."
My husband the scientist went in search of something we could use as a leash on the collarless dog. No luck. He went outside to talk on the phone and the dog whined longingly to join him.
"No," I informed the spunky guy. "You are not going outside."
And before I knew it, I gave in.
"He's coming towards you!" I called out to my husband.
The dog sped around him, did a few circles in the backyard, and dashed off through the neighbor's yard towards another road. At no point did he go to the bathroom. The chase that ensued involved four different neighbors, my husband dodging trees, me behind him, still barefoot and whistling, some dog-on-dog humping, and a 12-year-old blond girl.
The animal control lady arrived just as we finally caught him again. We were relieved to let her put him in a cage in her SUV.
"What happens if no one claims him?" my husband asked.
"You don't want this dog," she said. "He's a jack russell terrier."
She proceeded to tell us everything that's wrong with his breed, and which ones would be a better choice for us (a Westie if we want a little dog and a GoldenDoodle if we want a medium sized one).
We gave her our information anyway, just in case.
"Awesome," my husband kept repeating. "Awesome. That was an awesome dog. ... Awesome."
And then, "I think we should ask the priest if that was a sign from God. I said we would only get a dog if one showed up at our front door - and a dog showed up at our front door!!"
They did look good together.
