What she wanted was to let me know that she found a puppy wandering around on the road and that she had no choice but to load it up into her car and bring it home. To MY home. I guess I am somewhat proud that I didn’t raise someone callous enough to leave a puppy wandering around a rainy, busy road in the middle of the night. And honestly, I was relieved that no one was hurt or in need of bail.
A short time later, my daughter’s friend walked in the house alone. This was strange. What happened to the sweet cooing sounds of my daughter with a wet puppy? So I asked, “Sami, where are Allie and the puppy?”
“In the backyard,” she replied.
“Sami, why isn’t Allie bringing the wet puppy inside?”
“Well," she replied, "she’s pretty big.”
“Sami, what kind of dog IS it?”
“A pit bull.”
I’m a big dog lover, but I have to admit I’m a bit reticent when it comes to pit bulls. A very sweet one that belonged to a close family friend once bit my dog’s face for no good reason, and he and I have been pit bullist ever since.
But still, the rain was pouring down and it was not a fit night for any beast to be outside, so I met Allie at the door and directed her to bring the dog directly to the guest room. I didn’t want her presence to upset the delicate pet balance in our house – one spoiled dog, one unfriendly cat, and one recently inherited cat – part of my mother-in-law’s estate.
Aside from her demeanor, nothing about this dog said puppy. She was far larger than our dog, with large, clumsy paws, and an enormous head and tongue. I left Allie to her own devices to figure this thing out on her own. Doing a good deed is not always the easiest path. She ran us out of dog food in about two hours. I’m not sure if the dog was starving or just opportunistic. She quickly laid waste to the guest room comforter, and any good smells the room may have had were quickly replaced with what can only be described as wet dog. Or, let me be more specific - wet dog in heat.
Powerless to do anything about the situation in the middle of the night, I went back to bed, happy in the knowledge that I would not be the only one losing sleep that night. We did our due diligence and contacted the local animal shelter, posted notices on the neighborhood listserves and Craigslist, and I directed Allie to take the dog, now named Lola, to the vet to be sure she hadn’t been micro-chipped. No one made any claims to this very sweet, very hungry dog. (Except maybe our male dog, who made a few overtures in the back yard.)
Allie began posting pictures and updates on her social media empire, and soon even my friends and acquaintances were inquiring about Lola’s status. Lola was the topic of conversation at my friend’s dinner table, where she realized her teenage daughters had been following my daughter’s Twitter posts for months. I checked into it, and learned that Allie’s Twitter feed on Lola garnered over 5,000 impressions. Wow! Lola is likely the most famous, menstruating pit bull on earth.
After two days of Allie and the dog snuggling in the guest room together, cycles syncing, I began to worry that this was becoming a permanent situation. Our cats had gone on strike and had taken up residence on the front porch, coming in only to get a bite to eat and soil the litterbox before retreating to the safety of our fox infested neighborhood. Our dog Jack was in a state of permanent attention. Ears cocked, waiting for Lola to emerge for a walk or a visit to the prison yard.
The weekend was approaching and Allie was scheduled to work. I was wondering if her social media network was going to step forward and give this sweet, bleeding dog a home. Her wonderful boyfriend Andrew came to the rescue and took Lola home for the weekend, and I haven’t seen her since. His family immediately fell in love with her, bought her some pink accessories, and gave her a home, and I got my guest room back. So last night, I Face Timed with a dog.