I was out at my parents' house. They live in a heavily wooded area near a lake. Steven was going to be taking a long weekend to accompany my brother to Canada as he moved there for work for the summer. The car was packed, we said our goodbyes, and they headed off. Then the phone rang.
"Uh, there are two puppies in the middle of the road... like, sitting on the yellow lines... I figured you would want to know," Steven's voice was heavy. Encumbered by the sense of duty he had to report the situation to me, coupled with the dread that I would indeed bring them home. "I'm on my way!" I chirped. My mother and I hopped in her car and headed down the road.
Steven and Mike, my brother, were waiting for us, keeping an eye on the dogs. "Those are no puppies!" were the first words out of my mouth. Sure, these guys are little and young, but they aren't babies anymore. Not that that fact really made a difference. We sent the men on, and my mom and I got to work. Fortunately, the dogs had moved to the bottom of a little private road that branches off the main road on which they were first spotted. Otherwise things would've been even more exciting, being that the main road has a speed limit of 55mph and plenty of blind curves.
The boys were understandably skittish. I could tell their fur was patchy, they were skinny, and they were coated with ticks. They had been on the lam for a while. Still, behind their wariness, I sensed a desire to interact with me. Their tails would wag a low, peaceful, happy wag when I spoke to them. This is important because a tail wag can mean a multitude of different things, from the classic "I'm happy to see you!" to "If you don't leave me alone I will rip your face off!" I had my mother park her car at the bottom of the hill. Since this side road was not frequently traveled, I decided to plunk myself down on the asphalt, facing perpendicular to the dogs, speak softly, and move slowly. Willem was very interested. Tim was curious, but exhausted, and we later found slightly anemic due to blood loss from ticks. I focused my efforts on Willem.
Over the course of the next half hour, I spoke softly and scooted slowly up the path toward Will to cross the 35-foot distance between us. I averted my gaze, and made sure my arm was outstretched every once and a while so he could get a good whiff of me if he wanted. Finally, I inched up to being a foot away. He sniffed, he wagged, and he did an oh-so-subtle happy tap dance with his front feet. I every-so-carefully reached out my hand. He sniffed it, then plonked onto his back to ask for a belly rub. The only reason I didn't immediately dissolve into tears was the fear I would ruin my hard work up to that point.
"Now what the heck do I do?"
I called down to my mom, who also looked close-to-tears, and asked her to call her friend Cindy. Cindy is another Crazy Dog Lady like me, but quite a bit more experienced. She's done everything from agility to therapy work with her dogs, as well as tons of training. I aspire to be another Cindy. Of course, my mother didn't have Cindy's number saved in her cell phone. So she called my dad and told him to call Cindy to tell her to call us. Whatever worked. We needed slip leads and guidance.
At this point, a sheriff driving down the busy road spotted us and pulled over to see if we were OK. Mom informed him of the situation, and I continued to sit on the pavement some distance away, crowing "Ask him if he has any slip leads!" ("No ma'am, I don't carry any equipment like that.")like the crazy person that I evidently am. He did confirm our suspicions of the overwhelmed, under-supported local shelter, "Well, if you get 'em, don't take 'em to the county shelter," implying what we already believed to be true. [Note that this is NOT Wake County, where I live, this is a more rural area in a different county]. They would be put to sleep.
At this point, my mother finds two chewers in her car from Paco, my parents' dog (and the dog I grew up with). I've gained Willem's trust, and Tim is following behind us. I break pieces of chewer into little nubs and feed them to the dogs, moving toward my mom's car. Finally, I have an opportunity, and I take it. This is one of a few moments during the capture process that I think, "If I'm going to get bit, it's going to be now." I swoop down, scoop up Willem's sturdy little top-heavy body, and toss him into the backseat. It was all one motion, but it was far from graceful. Success! I was confident that once I had one, I would easily be able to nab the other since they seemed very bonded and concerned for one another.
Then my phone rings. It's Cindy. My mother doesn't know how to work my phone to answer it. I turn to tell her, not thinking about the open car door. In the split second I look away, Willem hops out of the car and bolts. I've spent my one lucky shot, I've damaged his trust, and there are no dogs in that car to show for it. Crap.
To Be Continued on Wednesday... but you already know it has a happy ending.
Here is my Do Not Try This At Home message: Please note that my actions in catching unfamiliar dogs without any equipment or training were very dangerous. There were several points at which I could have been seriously injured. If you encounter stray, strange dogs, the safest thing to do is to leave them alone and call the proper animal control authorities in your area.
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