What is that gash over your right eye and why are you wearing a large band aid over your right eye and eyebrow? That’s what they would ask me. Or that’s what most people would ask me today.
What happened? That would be another question.
We returned home last night after eating out on our $20 budget per meal for the both of us.
I stayed in the car to collect what we had to bring home after working and sorting Pop in law’s stuff from his house. I also had my IPhone in my hand and was looking up something before going into our small apartment and hearing Alfie’s barking. We had been gone about 4 or 5 hours. He had yet to have his walk after we had been out to take care of business.
We crate our dog, Alfie, our three year old Beagle. He is not allowed to run free in our house where he could eliminate and poo and make a mess while we are gone. Any and every good trainer told us to crate him. There is no guilt in that. We also do not allow him on our bed where we sleep. He has his own bed.
Anyhow, his crate is a large one and not the same one he had as when he was a puppy. We have had him since he was about eight months old. The neighbor upstairs could not take care of him, so he was ours and has been ours since July 2011.
So, I grabbed my phone, my purse and other items just as I could hear my husband yelling at the dog after he opened the door to go walk him down the complex driveway.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Alllllllfieeeee,” he yelled.
My head jerked. Down went the IPhone on the car, where it slammed on the roof. Down went my purse.
And off went our 35 black and tan 15 inch beagle between my legs into the parking lot SANS THE LEASH and MY HUSBAND. HE WAS still in the doorway yelling.
Ooooo, not again, I said to myself, yelling “Alfieeeeeeee down the street.” I was loud. Maybe, just maybe some village idiot would help us.
No such luck. NO one opened their doors or window.
Alfie went back inside running at absolute top speed.
“Oooooooowwwwoooooooooooo,” our beast bayed.
He went in and out after finding out that my husband had a bag of food in the house. When he saw that he wasn’t his favorite raw chicken back out into the street he bolted in a rocket rush down the street.
“Oooooooowwwwoooooooooooo,” our beast bayed. “Whooooooooooooooooooooo,” he kept barking.
Party time without the leash. He was free and he knew it and knew we hated when he does this but didn’t care.
Forget it, you are not going to catch him if you run after him. Down the street I walked fast into the ditch area. I was half laughing this time, preparing for the worst. I had to prepare for the worst, figuring if I was pessimistic, it was no complete loss. This is “it”, I said. By that time, hub had followed. Last time he hit his head.
It was not the first time this had happened. I hate it when it does happen.
Alfie can not be trusted off leash, PERIOD. It would take the average person at least four hours to get him and we hope you have food, you hate to run and love mud. We mean it really. We hope you love mud.
“Grab the kibble inside,” I said, yelling. “Grab the bag of kibble or a bag of pig’s ears or he will not come
Down the street was another young man walking his pit bull boxer mix. He was well behaved and quiet but started to stare at Alfie Beagle and his frantic family who yelled at him to either stay or come back home.
“This is it,” I was crying inside. “It is over. Say goodbye.”
Then, it dawned on me that Alfie is social. He is very social.
“Hey kid –sir, “ I yelled. “Bring your dog over the other side of the dry ditch”, I instructed. I can get him if they sniff each other.
What I didn’t bank on was that his tan boxer pit bull mix was hostile to Alfie. He started growling the minute Alfie got within a foot of him. Being that our dog is elusive and likes to run and doesn’t listen, but will stand up for himself, I almost got into the dogfight when I grabbed Alf’s harness for dear life.
Hang on, I told myself. Hang on no matter what. Off went my wire glasses as Boxer Pit mix was pulled away. Down I went with Alf half in the air and the rest of my body slamming on dirt and leaves in the muddy ditch.
“Get him hubby,” I did. Click went the leash on our dog, while he hung on. Down he went into the half muddy ditch culvert. He almost sat on my wire glasses near the tree by the ditch.
“Glad I could help,” the kid said.
“Yeah,” I replied wiping the blood from the right side of my face. My ditch roller coaster ride with our dog slammed a nice abrasion gash near my right eye.
This was not a punishment from God. It is a punishment for not closing the door on our place when the dog has yet to go to the dog park at the end of a confined day. I should have known better. But I was grateful for any help at that moment. I was wiping the side of my face with my Smokey Mountain T-shirt. It had blood on it. Hub had Alfie and was pulling him back home. No need to worry if he was going to poo on the rug.
He had already done that. I almost caught him while he was zigzagging around the ditch.
I was praying then that no car was going to hit him.
Besides, I didn’t give a hoot after this episode.
I was fortunate I could see still and walked back home with two cuts on my eyebrow where I went down and hit a branch.
But don’t worry about me, I am fine after putting antibiotic ointment on it. I slept with a band aid last night and am trying to take it easy just a bit today.
Alfie was licking my hand after I sat down and after the door was closed and the whole ordeal was over. I realized again that I was the only one he allowed and trusted to grab him and bring him home. I had saved him again. He was submitting and thanking me for doing so. He knows somehow he has a good home and doesn’t want to spoil it.
I hope that he knows it.
I think that was it. I also know that we are going to be a bit more careful. And another thing, the last time this happened was Christmastime when he went into the culvert and ended up covered in drippy mud. We then got a bill for $45 at the groomer to get rid of the black mud on him.
Well, I certainly was not going to bring that mud inside our small apartment.
At least it is the part of the year where it doesn’t rain and there is no real dripping mud.
And yeah, he keeps licking my hand as if to say “I hope you are not mad at me.” This is after he stares at my bandage, while knowing that I am still ticked for taking the dive that I did to get him back.
And he is not chewing the lock on the silver metal door to get out.
I am starting to feel better now. I am fine, really.
But we don’t know about Alfie our Beagle. We are wondering when he is going to take off on us AGAIN.
Nah, it will be a while before he does. We are getting a new leash and a new way of making sure this doesn’t happen again. We are not going to leave the door open.
Yeah, I am fine and I am not going to sit in the emergency room for 4 hours and get charged $1,000 before next month when our new insurance kicks in.
My dog keeps staring at me. I am trying not to laugh.