“I poured spot remover on my dog. Now he’s gone.” – Steven Wright
In my continuing series on my adventures in forced pet ownership, here’s what happened to the Pomeranian. (If you’re confused, you might want to go back and read last week’s post.)
As I said last week, I allegedly caused the death of Medusa’s Pomeranian. Here’s how the conversation went:
Me: “Where’s the dog?”
Medusa: “Last night I let her out before I went to bed and told you to let her back in. YOU DIDN’T LET HER BACK IN?!?”
Me: “Um… when did you say that?”
Medusa: “Right before I went to bed!”
Me: “Was I present for this conversation?”
Medusa: “You were sitting right there working on your laptop.”
Me: “Did I respond or acknowledge you in any way?”
Medusa: “I know you heard me!”
The dog was gone for a couple of days. Coming home one night, I noticed a box in front of our door. Now, I own my own IT consulting business and I get packages all the time. So, when I see a box at the front door, I think nothing of it. Especially when the box looks brand new, is perfectly taped and says “FRAGILE: Electronics Enclosed” on the side. I did, however, notice a note on the top of the box. Apparently, a neighbor had found the dog. An owl had torn it up pretty badly and its remains (the dog’s… I think the owl survived) were in the box. When I broke the news to Medusa, her reaction was like something out of The William Shatner School of Overacting. Seriously. She threw herself on the bed and began wailing in the loudest, most hideously morose cry I’ve ever heard. I mean, it was completely over the top. Don’t get me wrong; I’m sure she was really upset. But this was like nothing I had ever seen. I remember my son and I exchanging glances like, “Uh… What the hell is this?” I remember trying to keep a straight face as I murmured some sympathetic nonsense. I mean, I felt bad the dog was dead, but the show Medusa was putting on was just plain entertaining.
Anyway, Medusa calmed down and Pronounced the dog would be cremated.
The next morning, I put the box in the back of my SUV and drove down to the city where I had an 8AM meeting followed by a 10:30AM meeting. I figured I’d take care of the cremation thing that afternoon.
The are, however, inherent problems with leaving a dead animal in the back of one’s car all day. I mean, I was only a few minutes from the house when the car started to smell a little funky. Once I got down to my first meeting, I was driving with the windows down while breathing through my mouth. So, I decided the best thing to do would be to leave the box under the rear end of my SUV where it would be in shade and, more importantly, not inside acting as a biohazardous air freshener. I come out of my meeting an hour later and sure enough, the box is gone.
My first thought was, “Holy crap. Someone thought it was a bomb and called Homeland Security.” I knew most of the building staff at the time, so I asked one of the maintenance guys, the parking lot attendant and a janitor if they had seen a box under my car. They all replied that they had, but they though someone had left something for me and had left it alone. We checked the building’s dumpster and it wasn’t there either. The only conclusion was… someone stole my dead dog.
So, I drive off and all I can think about is some guy getting home, excited to see what he was able to steal from that idiot who left an electronics shipment under his car. I just picture this guy’s face as he opens the box and gets a full-powered whiff of dog carcass. I can’t even imagine what went through his head when he saw what was in the box. I mean, who in the hell would pack up a dead dog and ship it to someone?
Then the phone rang… “Hey. I found a couple of vets who do dog cremations. I’ll send you the addresses.”