I'm a dog owner, though the past year and a half of owning my current dog has been a tad reluctant. Some of the reasoning behind that is because my last dog was perfect. It's not that I want to compare Bentley, the dog I have now, to any other dog - let's just say that my last dog allowed for the perfect dog/owner experience for the entire 11 years I had her. Bentley has his good points - but he is constantly on the watch for any sign, however small and insignificant it may appear to me, that if he seizes the opportunity before him he will, at last, achieve alpha-dog status. As my good friend Oscar would say, Mi huevos. It's me who walks upright, puts food in his dish, takes care of him and the various and sundry things a dog owner signs up for that...well, no one likes to think about. It's me who takes him outside - unless of course we're talking about the other night when he decided to make a break for it and leave while I was at work. Crawled his lanky 65 lbs out a window that I didn't think he could get out of and aside for the tell-tale screen in front of the window on the ground, left nary a sign of his departure.
I'll be honest with you people: If I could find a good home for this lanky beast, I'd bid him a fond farewell. While he's got his good points, it's a bit like having a party guest that everyone knows likes to steal things from people at parties - they may be somewhat enjoyable to have around for various reasons, but it's impossible to keep your mind off of the likelihood that they're going to take something of yours if you take your eyes off of them for long enough.
Bentley has been my dog for nearly three years now - the rules haven't changed, yet nearly every day he seems to think that they will change and it is his responsibility to watch for indications that he's getting a leg up on this whole gonna-be-an-alpha-dog-someday dream and act upon them. Mi huevos.
This month has had Spring arriving early - and some days have had Spring saying that Summer rode with it and was just getting a gift from the car trunk and would be along any minute. And so it was last Thursday when I went to work and thought I could leave my windows open a bit with the fan blowing and get some circulation of fresh air in the place. My windows are about two feet off of the ground and like any dog tall enough to see outside, Bentley does a lot of looking out said windows. Although the windows were barely open a foot - if that, at some point last Thursday, Bentley decided to go out for a bit - right through the window. I have no idea what time it was when he reached this decision - I was at work and while he was ambitious and smart enough to knock the screen out and leave, he is neither considerate nor smart enough to leave a note....
Master: went outside to sniff around, do my business wherever I wanted, chase a cat or a squirrel...maybe bark at a few things around the hood. back when/if I flippin' feel like it.
While I certainly didn't expect a note, neither did I expect to come home after midnight to one of the screens being knocked out and no sight of the face that greets me every time I come home in the window. Perhaps he's sleeping and hasn't heard me arriving home? That was what I thought as I turned the key and opened the door. No dog. For a brief second, I thought I would hear him get up on the kitchen floor and come running to greet me. Wrong.
In an instant my thoughts went to hoping that nothing bad happened to him - and a feeling of relief that if he had found another home...I'd be fine with that. Since it was after midnight when I got home, I couldn't call the dog warden to see if they picked him up. I walked up and down the parking lot, listening in the still of the night for any sound that might give up his whereabouts...nothing. I got back in my car and drove the loop around the neighborhood I sometimes walk with him...no Bentley. Once again I'll say that my hope was that nothing bad happened to him, but I had work to do with the writing class I'd started last week and a call to the dog warden would simply have to wait until morning. If anyone called, I'd say I was doing homework. If they asked about my dog, I'd say he was out...not sure what time he'll be back.
I'm not gonna lie - my imagination got the best of me and I thought he found a new home, though I knew that it just couldn't be that simple. I've had people talk about adopting this dog and once I even had a friend's daughter offer me $200 for him...and I've had moments where I'd take $199.95 less than that amount and throw in every dog accessory I have laying around this place. Again, it can't be that simple.
So I finish my work and call it a night. He's gone, I hope nothing bad happened to him. I don't know what time it was when I woke up Friday morning - perhaps around 4, not sure, but I thought I heard a dog barking. A bit foggy as I walked through the living room, opened the door and matter-of-fact say, "Bentley." - a few seconds later I hear my new next door neighbor walking up and Bentley coming up the walkway. Maybe he was out with the neighbor, though it might have been nice for one of them to let me know. You wanna go live with the neighbor? Don't let the door hit you on the tail when you leave. Bentley can't seem to understand why I'm not glad to see him - after all he's glad to see me. Translation: wow - it's not as easy out here as I thought, I mean sure I can go wherever I want, sniff around all I want, but I couldn't find anything good to eat and no place comfortable to sleep...
He's home, we'll discuss this when I wake up. I don't know where he's been - damn dog is neutered (though he refuses to believe this) and he didn't stink of booze, skunk or rolling in anything. There isn't a mark on him...fine. Save your tail wagging buddy, you'll exist the rest of your days on a very short leash...maybe even while you're in the house - but as I said, all of this will wait until morning, and yes, I'm shutting the window. Want me to leave it open for you? Allow me to remove your collar and tags first....
In the morning Bentley looks at me with wanting eyes, eyes that say he wants to go out. Eyes that show a love of outside and a world of freedom. Outside? But of course, once I have my first cup of coffee. Freedom? Mi huevos.
While relieved that nothing bad came of my dog's night out, I can't help but feel a bit like the Kings of Comedy routine where one of the comedians, Bernie Mac, I think, says something about how black people wish for things to happen - as in, Shoot, I wish he WOULD have tried to HIT me, so I could eff his ass UP! - I go about my morning and afternoon looking at Bentley as he watches me excitedly every time I open the window a bit or go outside and I think, Shoot I wish you WOULD jump out the window and run away - so I can lock your ass OUT. Alas, it is not that simple. He's home - and grounded.
