Still, not my Dog

I know. My blouse is awful. I know you’re saying “Oh, Diana. That top is
So, um, Wow… did you buy that in the children’s department? Does that even fit you?” This was not what I was going to wear today. I had a really cute twin set thing happening when I got dressed this morning. Then. Then I had to go deal AGAIN with the Dog That Is Not Mine.

I was taking Dogger out for her post breakfast toilette and we were met at the front door by The Dog That Is Not Mine. I still feel bad about letting him get away the last time he got lose and showed up at my front door, so I left Dogger in the entry way and put The Dog That Is Not Mine on a leash and walked him across the street to his house to give him back and to then hopefully indulge in a little post dog return “You Suck! Take better care of your damn dog” passive aggressive chat with his people .

His people didn’t answer the front door for me to passively aggressive bitch slap them about their dog getting away again then I knocked on the side door and got gypped out of my Bad Dog Owner spiel yet again. Since I was there I entertained thoughts about putting The Dog That Is Not Mine back into his back yard and then putting a note on the door to tell them about their dogs’ morning run. I couldn’t get the gate open far enough to get him in. The fence was a little to high to just drop him over the top – I did pick the dog up and put him on a fence adjacent trash bin to see if he could just jump down ( this was where I ruined my original , much cute outfit). He looked really cute up on the bin but he wasn’t going to grow wings and fly into his yard - true, it could in theory be done but… I didn’t want to be responsible for hurting the dog – this whole damn thing is about my desire for The Dog That Is Not Mine to not get hurt. Then I decided to see if there was another way into the yard and also to investigate how the dog got out in the first place. No joy there and the clock was ticking.

Dogger still needed to go pee and I had now had to find something else to wear so I took The Dog That Is Not Mine back to my house and put him the back yard. Where he preceded to bark and bark and bark some more. Grrrr.

I wrote notes to put on their doors explaining to the Dog That Is Not Mine’s actual owners where their dog was - once they notice the dog is not where it is supposed to be. I then moved (at this point he tried to slip past me - Bad Idea little dog. He could run but he could not hide. ) The Dog That Is Not Mine to the front yard and tied him up.

Then I went across the street and tried again to get these peoples attention – there was a car in the driveway so I knew someone was home. For this trip over I rang the bell instead of knocking, rude at 6:45am – but much more effective then just knocking. This time the Mother answers the door in her night gown. She has no idea the dog has run away again, I stifle my urge to sigh and roll my eyes in disgust. I leave her with a few declarative sentences about her dog getting away again and how I took care of it again and she needed to get her dog out of my yard. Grrr.

edited to add - I don't know why the type changed, I don't know why it looks like it does now. I didn't do this.