By Deanna Kirk
Corsicana Daily Sun
Remember Snoopy sitting atop his dog house with his typewriter (presumably manual) trying to start the Great Beagle Novel, which always began, “It was a dark and stormy night?”
The dark and stormy night of last Saturday begat a couple of dog tales in our familia.
First, whether by someone opening the gate or natural causes, Ginger Pawlowski’s two brown Boxers Max and Jack got out of their fence. By the light of the next day, Max returned home ... but Jack has still yet to appear.
Oh, he has been spotted — in the area on West FM 709 near the Parrish Store, I believe. I’m not sure how Jack managed to make it all the way from their place on Corbet Road to Pursley, but if you see a big brown Boxer that answers to Jack, please call Wally or Ginger at (903) 872-6236.
Our Boston Terrier Rocket crossed the Rainbow Bridge mid-September. I was content to simply wait for another dog to “select” me, but unbeknownst to me Mr. Kirk was making inquiries in the Boston Terrier community.
Once he’d somewhat given up on the search, or at least agreed to let it lay, a woman he didn’t know contacted him and had a dog she wanted us to meet. It seems this boy was a show dog, and had basically won all the championships for which he was eligible to compete.
Why would she want to “place” a dog such as this? It would seem that showing dogs is her hobby, a passion, and she had a couple of new pups she was going to start over with, and simply had too many dogs.
So, the gorgeous, sunny day of last Saturday we set out for the metroplex. I read a good book while Mr. Kirk drove, we stopped and had a lovely dinner, then went on to her home. They were lovely people with a lovely home.
And Deanna, who had steadily insisted “Oh, I don’t think I’m ready for another dog,” and “I’d rather have some new floors than another dog,” and “I always wait for the dog to choose me, not the other way around,” found herself sitting on a stranger’s couch covered in Boston Terriers and heard herself say, “I’ll take two, please.”
Cooler heads prevailed (that would be Will’s) and we departed in a rain storm with Walker in a pet carrier in the back of our car. We drove home in the “dark and stormy night,” the worst we’d seen in a long, long time.
Of course there were adjustments to be made on the part of all. Along about Thursday, I assume Walker began feeling comfortable enough with his new home to let out his ornery streak. Oddly enough, the day he made his big mess, his other mama texted Mr. Kirk to ask, “You haven’t decided to trade Walker for Daisy yet, have you?” And though Walker’s hijinks had forced me to vacuum the entire house before work, we shared a laugh and Will told her he figured Walker was at home.
Until the night of Halloween. All the kids, grandkids, great-grandparents, etc. were over. As the evening drew to a close, we all gathered at the door to say our goodbyes. I heard Mr. Kirk telling me “Watch Walker, he’s gonna shoot out the door,” and I guess I heard him but in the commotion, I didn’t move fast enough. Next thing I knew, Walker bolted.
When they were passing out street lights, I guess my street was out to lunch because we have none. Several family members including myself and Mr. Kirk trecked through the dark whistling and calling Walker’s name. I had visions in my head of someone finding him and calling the number on his tag, which is his other mama’s number, and me having to explain how unfit I was to be a fur-baby Mama.
It was my son-in-law Jorge who was the hero that night — as he came out of the darkness from behind a neighbor’s house, carrying our granddaughter in one arm, a diaper bag the size of a Volkswagon, and the dog under the other arm.
Thank goodness that night wasn’t a dark and stormy one!
Deanna Kirk is Daily Sun staff writer and editor of Explore magazine. She may be reached via email at email@example.com. Want to Sound Off on this column? Email firstname.lastname@example.org.