It was a dark and clear night full of moonlight. After we found the dog, I was ready to hang my smart Lawyer Husband Scott. I do not often write like this, but this one has to be written.
So, ok it was lack of team work or someone wasn’t looking to where our loudmouth three year old beagle was.
Alfie escaped. It was both our fault. We weren’t looking. He got out of Stalag Starkey Ft. Florida Beagle.
Nothing is perfect around here and well, he usually is under the bed, my hub said. “Right, Jeannie? I got into my good book. I just can’t put that doggie into that wee little crate before I go to bed..”
I could. I do. And Alfie should be in there by 10 Pm., so I know where he is at all times.
Our dog Alfie snuck or slithered through the half open sliding glass doors and out into the backyard and had dug under the fence and escaped into the neighbor’s yard six houses down the street. It was pitch black in THEIR YARD.
It was midnight and he was howling in another neighbor’s yard where it was pitch black outside of the full moon’s light in the sky last night. We only found him because he was howling loud. It was late and I wanted to apologize to everyone. Maybe I still should do so. At least I could hear him while yelling. He was baying back.
All this happened because my husband had refused to put him in there by 10 pm., because ” just leave him under there and I don’t want to chase him and fall down after I think I have him.”
We were about to go to bed and all the doors were locked and I had just finished washing and drying my feather pillow to go to bed when I hear this howling.
I AM HEARING THINGS. No, I was not. I asked my hub where the Beagle was. “Arrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,” went Alfie. I could hear our Beagle baying. It was outside and not inside.
Gee, that was strange. I don’t think any other dog is out at this hour and those six bulldogs that our neighbor next door has do not make that sound.
“Arrrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,” went Alfie.
Good thing I wasn’t in my jammies.
So I unlocked the door . Woosh, I went. In went my feet into my already laced Asic tennis shoes with the glow in the dark stickers and off I ran almost crying that our Beagle would leave us. I had pics in my mind and heart that I would be burying this son of a bleep before the night by moonlight was over. I had images of some idiot, yes idiot because you would have to be an idiot to want OUR DOG AT MIDNIGHT, STEALING HIM BECAUSE HE MAKES SO MUCH NOISE. He MAKES THAT MUCH NOISE. THEY WOULDN’T GET VERY FAR. EVERYONE WOULD HEAR HIM.
“Son of a bleep…. son of a bleep… son of a bleep…” I kept saying over and over again. Mind you, that this was the second time this dog has escaped. In between my chanting this, I was half crying and walking into the street, YELLING “ALLLLLFEEEEE….. Alffffeeeeeeeeee Alfeeee. ”
Right now as I am writing this he is in the crate scratching to get out again. But I am a smart lady and no way is going to do so. He was caught jumping on the bed while my hub mowed the front lawn, another rule he broke this week during the full moon light. Our caseload was light and he had about two or three hours this morning, so he did it. He is laughing because he knows he is in the doghouse because our dog got out last night.
So thank God we make the Beagle walk around with a leash on around here, just in case we have to do this again.
So, dashed out the door. My hub was scuffing his shoes behind me. He was way behind me. I made my husband go in the backyard of the neighbor’s. I was terrified and very pissed. Yes, I wrote that: pissed. Your carelessness and leaving the door open allowed him to get out, is what I said. And so forth went my Veruca words. Hey, this was the merit badge of carelessness. I have earned a few also. I admit it. I am not perfect, YET.
And this really happened.
HUB said he found him under a tree trying to get through another fence where there was supposedly a female dog. It was pitch black so I didn’t want to go back there and be shot at. He’s the lawyer. His legal brothers around the county would defend him. I, on the other hand, am just a non legal civilian who would be shot at. We live in a subdivision and well, one person is enough. Someone would need to be in front to call 911 in the event of a redneck sound or sighting. I didn’t see a Bubba in a truhhhck, so no gun was expected. Scott had the bag of kibble that he grabbed on the way out the door. This was after I yelled for him to grab the Iams bag.
I was not about to test the stand your ground law in Florida. I WAS NOT ABOUT to do this after chasing my Rico Suave Beagle who wanted to get Some by moon light.
“Goood boy good dog… ” went my better side that I told to shut up.
“Arrroooooooooooooooooooo” went the Beagle.
“Son of a bleep … son of a bleep… .son of a bleep,” went the rest of me. Yes, I can bleep by midnight.
So in went my hub who allowed this to happen in the first place. Serves him right. I don’t care.
Goood boy good dog… ” went my better side that I told to shut up.
“Arrroooooooooooooooooooo” went the Beagle.
“Son of a bleep … son of a bleep… .son of a bleep,” went the rest of me.
So in went the hub in a stranger’s backyard, near fearless that a Bubba would come out with a shotgun and I would have to call 911 to get a deputy a half a mile up the street.
That’s why Alfie stopped. He would stop for anyone for food. Well, he would stop for most anyone. He stopped for us because we feed him.
We have yet to fix our Beagle wonder boy. The thought is that since we can’t have our own, just let the dog have his own and get a female ourselves and really have our hands full. Let er rip. Let’s have some real life around here. We are not politically correct. If we follow doggie protocol, this will not NOT NOT happen AGAIN.
But the minute I saw the dog pulling on my husband, I folded my arms while strutting down the dark, while holding the bag of kibble. NO DEAD DOG. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE DEAD DOG AND THE DEAD HUSBAND AND WAS WISHING BUBBA WOULD HAVE GOT HIM or both of them WITH A SHOT GUN, BUT I CHOSE TO BE THANKFUL IN FLORIDA AGAIN. I really chose to be thankful. amen to that.
Ok, so they were both in the doghouse last night. But I woke up this morning and hugged them both.
I am grateful I have them both. But I’m locking the doors early tonight. No one gets out after 10 p.m.
Alfie the Beagle is safe now. Where’s Lady Omega the Beagle so he will not run?
I know I am enough for my husband. And maybe I ought to keep my sense of humor when I lock the door. That is my new job: locking the door at 9:45 pm.
And remember no one leaves after 10 p.m.