I’m positively livid, and I need some clear headed advice about what to do. …
Every night as I get off the bus to walk home (I’ll save my $3.59/gallon gas for FUN, thanks
) the auto shop on the corner is closing for the day. This business is where Demon Dog, the infamous rottie who finds her greatest pleasures in life to be scaring boys off skateboards and making people fall off their bikes by barking like a nut when they pass her gates, lives. She guards the property at night, but has a dog house and run area where she’s kept during the day. She’s not all mean spirited—people go back there and sit and pet her, kids play with her—she’s a good girl. I’ve never, ever seen her loose—she’s either in the run, on a lead, or she’s locked inside the gates, guarding.
Last night as the bus pulled up to the corner, I could see that one of the security gates was already closed. The other one was open—an entirely normal state of affairs. I said good night to the driver, got off and started walking past the open gate toward the new nail shop that just opened, thinking that my nails had reached their semi annual decent stage, and I might just splurge on a manicure WHEN—I WAS LICKED!!!
All the way up my Achilles tendon, from the edge of my heel callus halfway up the back of my capris, which are immediately slobber soaked. A hot, SLOBBERY lick. Very wet, and about 3 inches wide. Yes: it was Demon Dog. LOOSE.
And the gate was WIDE OPEN, onto a busy four lane street.
So I turn around, and there’s Demon Dog, all happy and play bowing, spinning around, licking me from the tip of my toes, right across my sandals and up my shin, soaking the FRONT side of my capris in slobber.
I look around. I can’t see a soul. I holler for a good 2-3 minutes: hello, is anyone here, hello, your dog is out, hello, hello…NOBODY answers me. I’m rubbing her ears, patting her sides, now I’m slobbered all the way up both legs AND both arms. (What a dangerous killer she is!) I call the phone numbers on the sign above the business—no answer. I call the phone number on the tow truck—no answer. I call them both again—still no answer.
I start to step inside the gate, but she blocked me—very clearly, she wasn’t going to let me go inside. She’s more than glad to stand around at the gate and lick me to death, to roll over on her back and have her tummy rubbed, whatever, but I’m NOT allowed past the gate. Fair enough. She’s a smart girl, and she knows her job.
But I’ve been standing there giving lovies for well over 5 minutes, trying to get someone to come out and I’m not getting any answers. Clearly, I can’t just leave her there. There’s a lock keeping the gate open. She’s not going to let me come inside to put her in her run. There are dozens of cars and trucks going by 5 feet away in the street. If someone comes by on a bike or a skateboard, I’m certain she’ll chase them and even though I doubt she’d bite them, I’m sure she’ll end up hit by a car!
And I’m starting to get a little scared about why I’m not getting an answer from anyone. Y’all know I’m the worst case scenario girl—I’m starting to think of all the accidents that can happen in an auto bay.
Finally, I put my hand thru her collar and told her to heel. We walked over to the little diner that’s next door to the mechanic shop. You can imagine their joy when I walk thru their open door with the enormous rottie from next door, who the cook is apparently terrified of. I explain what’s going on, and ask if they have any other phone numbers that I can call, that nobody is answering the numbers I can see. They search their rolodex and DO have another number, which I call while the cook goes over to see if he can find anyone—to get away from Demon Dog, who’s still slobbering me wherever she can reach and playing tug with my purse. The guy I get on the phone does NOT speak English, my Spanish isn’t any better, and about the best I communicate is, “Tengo perro! tu gate is abierto, tu perro is loose! Venga aqui, arriba!”
Yeah, my brother the Spanish teacher would be appalled. But he finally said “Vengo!” among other things, so I presumed he was coming over.
OK, it's a little funny at this point. But not really.
I walked her back over to the lot. I can hear a phone ringing somewhere. About 2 minutes later, out from the back of the bays stumbles a guy. As he gets close, I can smell the beer. He’s drunk! He comes over, slurring in Spanish, which makes it completely impossible for me to understand him at all, he’s trying to unlock the gate to close it with no luck. He keeps talking to the dog, who’s not remotely interested in going near him—she keeps circling around behind me to get away from him, simultaneously trying to make sure I stay on the sidewalk, while I’m trying to make sure she doesn’t end up in the street—well, I’m sure you can picture it. I wanted to shove the drunk in the street really, really badly.
Finally, a car pulls up, and out gets a guy I recognize as someone who’s worked on my car before. No, we don’t communicate any better now than we did on the phone, but at least he could see that the gate was STILL locked open(!) and the dog was loose and licking me like I was Ben and Jerry’s Beef Jerky Bits. He unlocked the gate, closed it, and started screaming at the drunk in Spanish. Demon Dog just stands there, eyes all sad, ears down. She wasn’t done having her head rubbed, I could tell. So I gave her a few more pets thru the fence, and then I went home to take a shower.
I had to use a pumice stone to get the layers of slobber off me. (That’s not a complaint, just a measurement of how slobbery I was!)
I stopped and talked to the manager this morning—he knows me, he’s worked on my car too. The story is that the drunk is the nephew of the latest owner, and he knows there been drinking on the job—the uncle doesn’t care, just wants the drunk working. The manager is going to have another talk with the drunk, but he didn’t seem very optimistic. He’s as concerned as I am that it could happen again, only next time, someone could end up hurt.Here’s my enraging dilemma.
Up until now, she’s always been taken good care of, with plenty of bones and Kongs and toys when she’s out guarding at night, she’s got two big 5 gallon water jugs refilled every day, and the dog food bags in their trash are Canidae. Her run is always clean, and she has a shade over her dog house to keep it cooler and out of the rain.
But I am NOT going to let that sweet good dog get run over because a irresponsible drunken…insert multiple profane curse words in both English and Spanish here
…leaves the gates open while he’s getting smashed in the back.
If I find her loose again, do I call the cops? If I do, they’ll call Animal Control, and she’ll end up in the LA County shelter. But maybe they would arrest the drunk for endangering public safety—after all, she IS one of those dangerous rottweilers...
And LA County IS a kill shelter, in a city where there's a high level of prejudice against rotties, pits, etc. It’s not fair.
She loves her lot and her job and barking at people to make them jump! That stupid…repeat curses from before
…is the one who needs to be in the animal shelter, not Demon Dog!
If I find her loose and take her home, will Rottie Rescue take her as a stray, if I lie and say I just found her wandering?
I'm so mad, I don't know WHAT to do. GRRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! …