Thursday, August 15

I Tried to Steal a Dog

As I've mentioned a couple hundred times, I work with children who have been abused and neglected in the most horrific, awful, sad, and disgusting ways that some people struggle to even imagine- never mind to actually live it. That said, I have never brought one home. I do not feel compelled to "save" the children by welcoming them into my own life at such a personal level, because working with them in the manner of which I do provides enough intrinsic satisfaction for me. Plus, these children have a voice; they also have child advocates, social workers, youth workers, case workers, psychologists, psychiatrists, teachers, doctors (upon doctors), medications, therapies, and coping mechanisms. 

However, when I hear of an animal, dogs in particular, that is suffering from abuse and/or neglect it is another story. Imagine my rage when my bff informs me that she knows of a dog that is being tormented with such bullshit. While she speaks, I can feel my blood start to boil, my hands start to twitch, and I suddenly get really hot (...?). I was basically one step away from my dark passenger completely taking over and going all Dexter on the ass-hole whom she is speaking about.  (Although, I was a couple of super stoked vodka cokes in at this point, so holding any sort of sharp object really wasn't ideal.) 

My trusty, law abiding, politically correct bff informed me that she had reported this abuse to the humane society and 3-1-1 numerous times already. The poor pooch was still in its same living quarters and under the same lousy conditions.  I took this moment to get all Mother Teresa and decided that justice needed to be served. While Cassalicious had been holding it together quite well until this point, my rage had weakened the feelings she had done so well keeping suppressed and soon she had caught up with my fury. Together we filled our dinner talk with resentment and the kind of anger you see in roid monkeys. 
That was that, we had to go save the dog, heal it with our love, and give it the beautiful life it deserves, 
so long as I committed the crime and kept it at my house.

Cassalicious pulled up to a quiet home, in an old neighbourhood full of gorgeous tall trees, that is best known for its abundance of hookers and drug use. That is when it finally happened for me; love at first sight. Sitting in his unfenced backyard, tied to a rope shorter than Finn's 'training leash' (the one used when I try to show off how well Finn can walk next to his owner) (which doesn't work), is the most beautiful dog in the world. At first, from a distance, and through slightly blurred vision, he looked like a regular pit bull pup.  After 100ish "aweeeeeee"s, "sooooo cuteeeee", and "good boyyyyyyy"s, I had approached the lovely animal.  Completely unaware if anyone was home or watching, fortunately I had the ever-helpful Cassalicious video taping behind me/ keeping a watchful eye out. 

This dog was effing muscular and certainly not an 8 week old puppy that I had envisioned. Up close, he almost looked like a pit bull cross bull mastiff (known for being MASSIVE). When he had originally been described to me, I remember hearing the words adorable, cute, and little puppy. While this dog was definitely good looking, he could obviously have been mistaken for a killer and images of him biting my hand off in one little nibble flashed through my mind. Cassalicious is obviously no longer reputable.

Luckily for my limbs, the dog was super playful. He instantly started jumping up and down (which I corrected better than Cesar himself) and covered my hand in gross, sloppy kisses. I WANT HIM. After introducing myself, I knelt down to his large, shark-like jaw level, and unclasped his leash.  Playful Pete charged at Cassalicious in a "I'm actually going to rip you to pieces" kind of way, and my God it was funny watching her run. I really did think he was going to bite her in the ass.  (He didn't.)  Once he got near the vehicle, he started to shake. A better word for it might even be convulse. He was so afraid of the car! Damn owners had apparently been spotted hitting and kicking him a number of times when he tried to jump up into vehicles. The little (huge) guy ran back to his leash and sat back down in the unmowed grass, now scared of us. Our only solution now was to lure it into the vehicle with snausages, like a professional dog-napper would do.
We raced off to IGA for dog treats, sped back to the house, and the crappy owners had returned.

Mission failed. 
Now, while Cassalicious believes the dog should be named Dexter; because he clearly looks capable of murder, I gave him the name Jack Bauer; because he is so bad ass. The question remains of what to do about poor Dexter/ Jack Bauer! Clearly reporting to people who are supposed to help is not working. Although after speaking with The Voice of Reason (my dad) he reminded me that not only could I face jail time, but I would lose my career if I was caught in the act. What can I/we/anyone do?!!

Ps. If you would like to steal me this dog I am happy to provide the home address for you.   :)

--I'm going to take a time out here to say a little something about the bad reputations Pit Bulls have gotten. I feel like the people who keep getting Pit Bulls that end up being harmful to others- are shit head owners like the ones I am mentioning today. These kinds of people don't get little shih tzus or pomeranians. They seek out a 'bad' dog that looks the part and can easily be trained to attack, or simply not train them at all and when the dog ends up hurting a person they are easy to place blame on. These people are the ones to blame for the pit bull stigma. I am afraid that Dexter/ Jack Bauer is headed towards the same fate, as he clearly does not have owners to train him properly, and once again a pit bull is going to end up aggressive.--

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Lauren Kent

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