Saturday. I was rudely awakened at 0500 this morning by a rabble at my bedroom window. Until then, the girls and I had been snuggled up in a lump in the middle of the too-small queen I [mistakenly] think of as MY bed.
The trio of us pressed our faces up to the window just in time to spy the serenading bandit. It was Zeus—the neighborhood rambler and notorious ladies` man on the block.
A very manly intact boxer dog, Zeus has recently decided our home is irresistible. What with three girls and the wafting aroma of kitty perfume on our lush, one-acre lot, I can’t exactly blame him.
I can blame his owners, though. And so I set off to do just that after phone calls to his home go unanswered. I borrowed one of the girls` leashes and headed off down the dark street towards Zeus` house.
Three blocks later I’m standing in front of one of those imposing gates our neighborhood is full of. A single, apparently ineffectual doorbell adorns the stucco. No luck. Three nice sports cars in the drive and the television flicker of a bedroom window in the distance somewhere within the manse. But there’s no response to my electronic pleas.
I briefly entertain the idea of flicking a sizable quartz pebble from the driveway at the silver Porsche closest to me. The car alarm would certainly get their attention. But then I’d have to own up to the vandalism. No thanks.
Leave him tied up at the gate? And what if they slept through the morning? No way.
I can’t leave him at my house—he’d surely dig out of the yard or jump the low fence after I’d left for work. My fence is not yet built to contain a big dog.
And that’s when it hits me—I’ll leave him in the neighbors` yard. These are neighbors I don’t like so much, what with their loud Salsa music at 2 AM, tacky fountain in the circular drive, and patent refusal to spay their equally wandersome beagle dog, Lilly.
Stealthily opening their back gate, I slipped Zeus in. Lilly came bounding over. The two were in heaven. Love at first sight. A match made in heaven.
Now I can make it to work in time with a job well done already under my belt—and it’s not even 6:30!
Let’s just hope Lilly’s not in heat.
