So this morning I opened the garage door to leave for work, and a dog comes running in, almost as if he's been waiting patiently for me to open the door for him. Jonah loves this and immediately demands that I put him down so he can pet this dog. Not knowing anything about the pooch, I was hesitant. The dog was friendly, but hyperactive. So I go to put Jonah in the car, and before I can do so, the dog goes under the car door and hops into Jonah's car seat. Well, this isn't going to work. So I coax the dog out of the car and get Jonah situated. The dog is hovering trying to find a way back into the car. Our neighborhood streets are deserted, this dog isn't with anyone. So I do the honorable thing, I'm taking this dog to the humane society!
Only the humane society isn't open at 7:30. Furthermore, the humane society isn't open on Mondays. There's a number on their answering machine for Linn County animal control. I call that. No answer. No answering machine. About this time, it dawns on me that I live in Benton County. I can get their humane society to take the guy. Nope....they're not open on Monday's either. I get to work, and look up the number for Benton County animal control. The guy who does animal control is on vacation until Wednesday. "Can you keep the dog until Wednesday?" the guy asks me. Really? There's a whole government paid position to handle this problem, and you're putting it on me, the guy who found the lost dog and is trying to prevent it from getting hit by a car? So then the guy says "well where did you find the dog?" "At my house in North Albany," I say. "Oh, well you need to call Albany's humane society then." I explain that they're closed. So I get transferred to the Albany PD. They tell me I need to call Corvallis because the dog is currently in Corvallis. I tell them they won't take it because the dog was found in Albany. So then they say "well we can't come and get it." I know this. I am fully aware of the inability of gov't entities to cross imaginary borders. "I'll bring it to you," I say. "Ok, take it to your house and an officer will come get it when they have a chance." What is this the cable guy? Just sit at your house and wait for the cops who may or may not have time to get it? I kindly ask if I can just bring the dog to them. I am put on hold for a while, and finally I am told that that will be fine.
All because a dog jumped into my car.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Dreams
So my dream last night was too weird not to share with people.
I somehow ran into a few of my friends from elementary school. (To protect them from any embarrassment and or confusion as to why they were in my dream, I will omit their names. I truly have no idea how they ended up in my dream anyways.) Friend One and I are playing playing Monopoly in some random dormitory lobby. Friend Two walks past and says she is heading to her apartment and wants to know if we need to do any laundry. I just so happen to have a large pile of laundry sitting next to me. So I enlist Friend One's help to load my laundry into the back of Friend Two's Chrysler Sebring Convertible. We then drive to her apartment. Friend Two goes to unlock the door while Friend One and I gather up the laundry (why I didn't have a laundry basket or some type of bag, I don't know).
As we round the corner with our arms full of laundry we see Friend Two being threatened by a crazed Indian mathematician holding a switchblade. By Indian, I mean from the country India, and I knew he was a mathematician because he looked completely unathletic and was wearing glasses and a pocket protector. The crazed Indian is making absolutely no sense, which scares Friend One into throwing the laundry on the ground and running back to the car. Indian guy seems intent on fighting me, and figured threatening my friend was the best way to do that. I tell him that if he really wants to fight, we can, but it's not exactly fair if he has a switchblade and I have some dirty socks. Surprisingly, he agrees, and throws me a hay hook. Hay hooks are basically long metal hooks with a handle used to move bales of hay. Anyways, I'm pretty sure I can defeat and uncoordinated mathematician with a switchblade with this hay hook, so I motion to Friend Two to run up to her apartment and lock the door. She does, and the fight commences.
I never figured out why this guy wanted to fight me, but it becomes obvious within a few seconds that I could really kill this guy if I wanted to. He's tripping over his feet, keeps calling time-out to adjust his glasses, things like that. I feel bad for the guy, so rather than rip his face off with the hay hook, I keep bonking him on the head with the curved part of the hook. Finally, the guy starts crying and runs off. I run up to the apartment, where Friend Two thanks me and says she'll be waiting in the car while I put my laundry in the washing machine. I do, and then open the door to head back to the car, only to be confronted by the same crazed Indian! I ask the guy if he really wants to go through that whole thing again, but the Indian says that no, he is not the same guy, but his twin brother. He apologizes for his brother's behavior and wants to know where Friend Two is so he can apologize to her. I start escorting him to the car, when these two little kids with strong Texas accents start pointing and yelling "Mama, Mama, he's escorting an illegal alien!" Not wanting to deal with this, we start heading for car a little quicker, until "Mama" comes around the corner in her cutoff jeans and flannel shirt tied in a knot at the bottom. She's screaming about how I need to take this guy back across the border immediately, or she's calling INS. At this point I get really mad and start yelling at this lady about how not all people of color are illegal immigrants from Mexico, but she is undeterred. She calls INS, the FBI and every other three letter agency she can think of. You'd think that I would just sit around, wait for everyone to show up, get the thing sorted out and be done with it, but because it's a dream, We get in the car and try to make a getaway from the crime we didn't commit. We're crusing down this road while Friend One, who has been hiding in the backseat, keeps muttering how we should've just finished playing Monopoly and Crazed Indian's Twin yammers on about how this never happened to him back in New Delhi.
Then, as the choppers and police cruisers close in on us as we fly down some wooded highway under a full moon, I wake up. I almost felt cheated. I tried to go back to sleep, but my son, who decided he just couldn't stand another minute in his crib and had to come into bed with us at 3:30 in the morning, was snoring so loudly that falling back asleep was impossible. Too bad.
I somehow ran into a few of my friends from elementary school. (To protect them from any embarrassment and or confusion as to why they were in my dream, I will omit their names. I truly have no idea how they ended up in my dream anyways.) Friend One and I are playing playing Monopoly in some random dormitory lobby. Friend Two walks past and says she is heading to her apartment and wants to know if we need to do any laundry. I just so happen to have a large pile of laundry sitting next to me. So I enlist Friend One's help to load my laundry into the back of Friend Two's Chrysler Sebring Convertible. We then drive to her apartment. Friend Two goes to unlock the door while Friend One and I gather up the laundry (why I didn't have a laundry basket or some type of bag, I don't know).
As we round the corner with our arms full of laundry we see Friend Two being threatened by a crazed Indian mathematician holding a switchblade. By Indian, I mean from the country India, and I knew he was a mathematician because he looked completely unathletic and was wearing glasses and a pocket protector. The crazed Indian is making absolutely no sense, which scares Friend One into throwing the laundry on the ground and running back to the car. Indian guy seems intent on fighting me, and figured threatening my friend was the best way to do that. I tell him that if he really wants to fight, we can, but it's not exactly fair if he has a switchblade and I have some dirty socks. Surprisingly, he agrees, and throws me a hay hook. Hay hooks are basically long metal hooks with a handle used to move bales of hay. Anyways, I'm pretty sure I can defeat and uncoordinated mathematician with a switchblade with this hay hook, so I motion to Friend Two to run up to her apartment and lock the door. She does, and the fight commences.
I never figured out why this guy wanted to fight me, but it becomes obvious within a few seconds that I could really kill this guy if I wanted to. He's tripping over his feet, keeps calling time-out to adjust his glasses, things like that. I feel bad for the guy, so rather than rip his face off with the hay hook, I keep bonking him on the head with the curved part of the hook. Finally, the guy starts crying and runs off. I run up to the apartment, where Friend Two thanks me and says she'll be waiting in the car while I put my laundry in the washing machine. I do, and then open the door to head back to the car, only to be confronted by the same crazed Indian! I ask the guy if he really wants to go through that whole thing again, but the Indian says that no, he is not the same guy, but his twin brother. He apologizes for his brother's behavior and wants to know where Friend Two is so he can apologize to her. I start escorting him to the car, when these two little kids with strong Texas accents start pointing and yelling "Mama, Mama, he's escorting an illegal alien!" Not wanting to deal with this, we start heading for car a little quicker, until "Mama" comes around the corner in her cutoff jeans and flannel shirt tied in a knot at the bottom. She's screaming about how I need to take this guy back across the border immediately, or she's calling INS. At this point I get really mad and start yelling at this lady about how not all people of color are illegal immigrants from Mexico, but she is undeterred. She calls INS, the FBI and every other three letter agency she can think of. You'd think that I would just sit around, wait for everyone to show up, get the thing sorted out and be done with it, but because it's a dream, We get in the car and try to make a getaway from the crime we didn't commit. We're crusing down this road while Friend One, who has been hiding in the backseat, keeps muttering how we should've just finished playing Monopoly and Crazed Indian's Twin yammers on about how this never happened to him back in New Delhi.
Then, as the choppers and police cruisers close in on us as we fly down some wooded highway under a full moon, I wake up. I almost felt cheated. I tried to go back to sleep, but my son, who decided he just couldn't stand another minute in his crib and had to come into bed with us at 3:30 in the morning, was snoring so loudly that falling back asleep was impossible. Too bad.
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