The Saga of a Rescued Dog: Chapter Six

22 May




The Saga of a Rescued Dog

Chapter Six: Déjà vu all over again

by L. Stewart Marsden



So there it was! This was it! Miracles of miracles — my luck was about to turn! Good-bye Mister Master! Good-bye BAD DOG! Good-bye hiding and getting hit or kicked or starved or a hundred other bad things my memory is full of.

What was that tune? Happy? Oh, yeah! HAPPYHAPPYHAPPYHAPPY ME!

Then I suddenly remembered when the mister first bent over to pick me up in the waiting room. And how Mister Master jumped into my head. And how I snapped at the mister for no reason at all.

Naw. That wouldn’t happen — couldn’t happen now, could it?

Could it?



Do you know the saying, the more things change, the more they stay the same? Or, different tune, same lyrics? Or, different map, same lost?

I don’t know — is it me? Of course it’s me! I’m the BAD DOG! I was, I am, and I always will be!


Let me catch you up:

So the ecstatic couple went up front with the mister to fill out adoption papers, right? And I’m waiting in my cage just giggling through my bones, and all! You can’t get much more excited! I think I might even have piddled on the floor in my cage.

But, just a little!

The mister comes back into the compound for me, and he had a dog travel box with him. I’m not all that big a dog, see?

And, the mister opens the box door and starts to coax me into it, and I’m a bit reluctant.

Well, you would be too.

But, he is smart enough to have a bacon-flavored chew stick, which he tosses into the box, and you already know how well me and bacon get along.

So, into the box I went — on my own — and grabbed the chew stick. The door closed, I turned around and lay down to munch on the stick. Mmmmm.

The mister lugs me back up front and puts the box on top of the counter, and the final bit of paperwork gets done.

The missus is staring at me the whole time with her great eyes that are still tearing, with that incredible smile that makes me want to melt. Then, she notices that I have the chew stick.

Should he have that? What is that?

It’s a bacon-flavored chew stick the mister replied.

That can’t be good for the dog, can it?

Lady, the dog likes it. This is a stressful time for him, and anything we can do to keep him laid back a bit is what we should do.

Can I see the package it came from?


And I’m chewing on my bacon-flavored chew stick, and not really watching as the misses scrutinizes the package, reading over the ingredients of the chew stick.

Well I think it would be better if he didn’t have the stick, she said . . .

and . . . she . . . opened . . . the . . . pet . . . box . . . door . . . and . . . reached . . . in . . . to . . . take . . . the . . . chew . . . stick . . . away . . . from . . . me.


And . . . I . . . — in . . . slow . . . m-o-t-i-o-n — barred . . . my . . . teeth . . . and . . . snapped . . . at . . . her . . . hand . . . and . . . drew . . . bloood.

BAD DOG!!! erupted both misters!


Immediately the mister closed the door to the box and fastened it.

I crouched as far in the back of the box as was doggedly possible.

The missus drew back her hand, a small stream of blood dripping down her thumb and wrist and to her elbow.

HAS THAT DOG BEEN VACCINATED FOR RABIES? demanded the mister adopter.

Yes! Yes! Yes! He didn’t mean any harm, ma’am! Honest! If you know dogs, you know NOT to reach for something they’re chewing on — ever! You did know that, right?


No. I didn’t. I’ve never had a dog before in my life. I did not know such a thing. It makes perfect sense. He doesn’t know me from Adam, and he’s been abused, and I tried to take something away that was helping him feel better.

And she cried.

She cried!

I should have known, said mister adopter. I’ve had dogs, and I know they can be very territorial and defensive. I shouldn’t have yelled bad dog. I wonder how many times he’s heard that before in his life?

All three stared into the pet box. Not one of them was angry, or scowling, or raving or cursing or any of the other things I have known before.

In fact, I think all three were crying. For different reasons, maybe.

So, I’ll tear up the contract and give you back your money. Unless you want to look at the other dog I have for adoption.


My heart is beating like a jack russell jack hammer. Everything hangs in the balance, I know. It’s a moment frozen in time, and nothing — NOTHING — I can do will erase the incident. Nothing. I have, once again, screwed myself.

The mister adopter asked the missus, What do you want to do?

She replied, What do you want to do?

We came here to rescue a dog. We knew it was going to be an adventure, but didn’t realize how much of one.

So? she asked him.

I think it’s like getting married. We took a chance, and we keep taking the chance every new day. This dog . . .

Griffy, she said.

You named him?

Yeah. When we first saw him a week ago.

They saw me a week ago?

And we talked all through this. About how it would not be your normal pick a pet from the pet store deal. How it was important to us both to rescue an animal. One less dog euthanized.

Yeah. We did.

It took them a week? They sure did cut it close!

We did. So I say yes. We take Griffy home. We learn to love him and take care of him, given his history. We help him heal from his past.

Okay. We take — Griffy — home. We’ll take the dog said the mister adopter to the mister.

Great! I am so sorry about your thumb! I have antiseptic and Band-Aids?


So, there it was. Déjà vu all over again. I settled back to my bacon chew stick, the mister got Band-Aids and antiseptic for the missus, and the mister adopter finished signing his life away.

But then, hey! They got me, right?

And, the best part? I got them!

A new mister, and new missus, and a new name! All in one day! Not a bad finish to a bad story after all!


Copyright © by Lawrence S. Marsden, 22 May, 2014

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