Atomictumor

While at the bus stop this morning, I heard our neighbor call out, “Watch out! Here comes a strange dog!” I looked up the road, and sure enough, a dog was approaching, attached to a chain and rope that was no longer attached to anything but the dog. The dog came and sat on our sidewalk, looked at us and wagged his tail - his whole body, really. He didn’t seem aggressive in the least, but not knowing his history, I instructed the kids to get on the deck and called Bos out of the house for some assistance.

Bos lead the dog over to our fence, tied him to our tree and gave him some fresh water. The dog very obviously belongs to someone, as evidenced by the chain and rope (I could go on a HUGE soapbox about that, but not today). Finding his owner seems a daunting task, however, and we just don’t really have the room to keep him here until the owner is located, so my first reaction was to call Animal Control. We looked it up here and called the after-hours number, which is actually the police department. Bos spoke to the fellow, who was surprised that the PD is the after-hours contact for Animal Control. The guy said to call Animal Control, but that they probably wouldn’t answer the phone until after 1:00 PM. Sigh.

The thing is, I don’t want to send this dog to Animal Control. If his owners don’t have the sense to check the shelter when they realize their dog is missing, I fear that his fate would be most unpleasant. Then again, we really, really can’t keep the dog, even on a foster-home basis. So what do we do? What alternatives are there to Animal Control?

I am going to contact S.A.R.G. (Shelter Animals Rescue Group) and see if he qualifies to be placed in one of their foster homes. Other than that, do any of you folks out there know of any options?

***

Update:  Mailman to the rescue!  Our awesome mailman just knocked on my door to let me know that he recognized the dog and that he belongs to some folks a little ways up the street.  He’s going to let them know that the dog is here.  Woot!!

Listening to Sweet Virginia by the Stones, and thinking its the best song for today.

I went to Donuts for Dads at Pigpen’s school, a tradition that I did with MastaG years before, and am doing now.  While there, I sat with Bos, October, and Spotz, and it was great spending time with little Pigpen.  As I left, I walked him down to the cafeteria, so he could get more food (he likes breakfast).

I hugged him and told him good bye, and then walked away. I turned around about 10 feet away from him, and he was still standing there, with his backpack on, his back turned to me.  He was watching the rest of the kids, just standing there like he didn’t care to go anywhere just yet.

It struck me that he’s growing up.  Its struck me a lot this year, watching him wander off to the ‘big school’, but it really hit today.  I never really felt this way about MastaG growing up, because he’s the big kid, and maybe thats unfair to him, or me, or something, but I really feel it today.

Because to a huge part of me, they’re all I’ve got.  That part of me is trying to learn, particuarly now that I’m in a relationship of sorts with a great girl (hate the word relationship), that I don’t have to be the widower, that I don’t have to stand apart from the world, wounded, subjugating my wants and needs purposefully, simply because I don’t know what to do with them, and don’t want to screw around with having them.

I keep telling her that I wouldn’t wish being the girlfriend (or ladyfriend) of a widower on my worst enemy.  Not because I feel like I’m cheating on BJ, not at all, but because of all the other things just lying beneath the surface.  The things that I avoided, or ignored, because I didn’t figure there could be anything for me after her.

Its an odd trip, and one that I can’t predict at all.  Its one that I can’t really talk to my friends about, because its kinda weird to talk to people that knew me and BJ, and our love, and our relationship, and our us, about this new life.  Not sure why, and I’m almost certain none of these people feel that way, so I guess its just me.  Surely they don’t look at me like a wounded animal, right?

Odd, odd odd.

Maybe I’m just melancholy, or in my traditonal late summer funk (the heat’s about enough to do it).  I haven’t had energy for a week, my throat hurts, and I don’t want to talk to anybody.

At the same time, I’m so tired of being alone.

I’m tired of being the widower.  And the dad with the momless kids growing up so quickly, and so bittersweetly.

Been a busy week
And a busier weekend
I’m sore and sleepy

Kids are all playing
Nodbobs asleep on the couch
House is wrecked again

Fun times at the ska
But we got there kinda late
Only saw three bands

Got lots on my mind
I can’t seem to shake it out
I don’t understand

All I can do is
Trust that general feeling
Everything’s alright

Also remember
I have a tendency to
overanalyze.

Have you seen Etsy? I had not till just now.

It seems to be a clearinghouse for all sorts of handmade items. There’s everything from greeting cards to bibs.

Thanks to Life & Design for the heads-up.

Judging by the phone call I just recieved from the Tumor headquarters, there’s a rip roaring party going on over there. AT just gave me his famously curative recipe for a screwdriver. It involves counting and some basic arithmetic.. Sadly I lack orange juice, so juicy juice will have to do. Cheers!

My dearest wife’s parting words this evening were, “I won’t be home too late.”

Ah well, I let her out the door. What am I to expect?