cool beans

“Honey, be romantic and say something sweet.”

“Uh, okay. Come to Butthead.”

From Merriam-Webster Online:
Main Entry: stray
Pronunciation: ’strA
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, from Old French estraié, past participle of estraier
1 a : a domestic animal that is wandering at large or is lost b : a person or thing that strays
2 [Middle English, from straien to stray] archaic : the act of going astray

One night last week, my son came home carrying a small dog. He excitedly called to me from across the street, “MOM! I found a lost dog! He was wandering around and I’ve never seen him before.”

Excited that we’d be doing a good deed in returning the dog and immediately in love with the animal, we leapt into action. I called my sister who lives nearby and asked her to bring a leash so we could walk the dog around the neighborhood and knock on doors. While she was on her way over, we realized the dog was really well behaved and didn’t actually need a leash since he responded really well to “stop” and “come”. After my sister arrived and rolled her eyes upon hearing we didn’t need the leash after all, it started to rain. We retreated to the garage. I called the vet who had given the dog his rabies shot and made her kind of cranky that I would call at 8:30 at night and expect her to know who the animal belonged to. (Sheesh. SORRY.)

So we all hopped in my car. The dog was not excited to be going for a drive and I assured my son the dog must be used to riding up front but to “keep him back there with you.” We stopped at the house my son said the dog was near when he found him. I ran up to the porch and knocked and waited. Nothing. Hmm. Rang the bell. Waited. Turned to look back at my car just as the doors were flying open and my sister and son jumped out. My son yelled, “The dog just barfed in your car!” as he ran from the car like it was a ticking bomb.

Just then, neighbors across the street came home. We asked them if they recognized the doggie. They did and the woman said, “I see him running around all the time. I think he lives in that house right there.” She pointed at the house where I’d been ringing the bell.

I looked at my son. “You said this dog was lost.” He said, “He was! He IS! These people have a Great Dane, not a little dog!”

The neighbor lady said, “They have a lot of animals. I think that one gets out under the fence.”

I looked at the privacy fence. There were a couple of places where large rocks were placed in holes that had been dug under the fence.

That’s when the home owners pulled up. My car was blocking their driveway so I had to get in to move it. As I got out of the car, the neighbor lady handed the dog over to the people in the car saying, “Here’s your dog.” Like she rescued it or something. I wanted to hand her the dog vomit as a reward.

On our way home, my son talked about how sad he was we found the dog’s owner because he loved the dog so much and wanted to keep it. That’s when it hit me.

“Where did you find the dog? Where exactly?”
“In a yard. Sniffing around. He was lost.”
“What yard?”
“Their yard.”
“You mean the DOG’S YARD?”
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t know that!”

At this, my sister and I cracked up. I laughed so hard I drooled on myself. Later, my daughter said, “He said he saved a dog.” I told her, “Well, he either saved it or kidnapped it. I’m not really sure.”

When your son starts bringing home the neighbor’s pets and calling them strays, it’s probably time to get one of your own.