Thursday, January 04, 2007

Dog Day Night

Update: On my way to engaging in some retail therapy and freelance research at Neiman's, I saw the dog at the gas station. She then pranced over to the CVS. I was going to get her, bring her into CVS and buy her some food. Alas, by the time the damn light changed, she was MIA again. So now, on my way home from Neiman's I bought a box of Milk Bones to keep in the car. I am going to stalk the Publix parking lot tonight. How exciting is my life? Sooooo very.

And Leandro, I have no idea who you are, but God bless ya' for the steady stream of free publicity. You hiring?

I cannot even believe this happened last night, but it is even further proof that people suck, 2007 is not going to be any better than 2006, and my timing is just God-awful.

I take off for Blockbuster to console myself with The Last Kiss. Naturally, they are out of it. On my way out, I see a Boxer-type dog, with no collar, looking lost and with those droopy teats that seem to indicate a recent birth.

As you may know, I am the doggiest dog-person of them all—big, small, smelly, ugly, cute—bring them on. And all dogs love me, they can sense dog-lovers. So I'm not shy about approaching strays. This poor, big, brindle-coated canine looked so sad and lost, I almost started crying, both for what I'd apparently lost (more on this later) and for what/whom she had lost.

"Come here, sweetie," I cooed, and started making kissing noises. She came right up to me, licked my hand and let me rub her ears. She did not appear to be malnourished or dirty. I pet her for a few minutes and looked around for a potential owner. She kept pacing in front of Blockbuster and looking in as if her idiotic (no collar, no leash) owner would emerge any minute.

Blockbuster is right next to the Publix (supermarket) I frequent. There is a cop, whose beat apparently is to sit outside on the bench outside Publix all-day, every day. Usually it's a certain cop who is very nice to me. Not last night though. I didn't know what to do; my cell phone was at home or I would have called the Humane Society, where I am a volunteer. But the cop was sitting right there, so I thought he might actually help.

I made kissing noises for the doggy to follow me and then I called to the cop, who actually sighed and rolled his eyes for having to get his lazy ass up off the bench. Jesus H.

"Sir, this dog doesn't have a collar and looks lost," I say.

The cop starts yelling at the dog and telling it to "SHOO!" I am horrified, I try to get the dog to come back.

"What are you doing?" I screamed at the cop. "Why don't you call animal control? I didn't want you to run him off!"

The dog scurries off into the packed parking lot and nearly gets hit by a car backing out. Then she hightails it out of the parking lot into the black void of the night.

"Why couldn't you have just called animal control?" I yelled at the cop. "She nearly just got run over!"

"Lady," he barks in his barely understandable English, "That's not my job."

"Well, you could have at least tried!"

"It's not my job lady, if you're so worried you take him home with you!" he yells, then returns to the bench.

I am fuming by this point. I would have taken her home but we all know the condo nazis policy on dogs in my bldg. Now this poor dog is probably dead thanks to me and the hapless cop. I walk back over to the cop, staring into the parking lot, sitting complacently on the bench.

"You know karma's going to come back and get you when that dog gets killed by a car cause you ran him off," I hissed.

"You think I give a shit, lady?"

"Well, you should!"

"I'm doing my job, thas' it."

"Yeah, I can see you have a real tough beat, sitting outside Publix all day." I fume and walk away. Today I'm going back and getting his badge # and lodging a complaint. I circled the dark lot a few times looking for the poor dog but could not find her.

And this left me yet again thinking that people are just the worst; even those whose job it is to help, really just suck.