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Wednesday, July 12, 2006

A Beagle, A Lottery Ticket and a Dream.

I am kind of anxious and excited right now - I'll tell you why.

Yesterday, on my way home from work, I saw a beagle running up and down one of the busiest streets in my area. It was quite evident that the dog was someone's beloved pet, so I turned my car around just in time to see it almost get hit. I knew at that point - 100 that I had to get the dog out of that situation. I'm always a bit apprehensive in dog rescue situations because I'm never sure of the dog's temperament or how I will handle the situation once I actually have the animal in my car - what if I can't find its owners, what if I can't find someone to adopt it, etc.

So, throwing caution to the wind (this is the first time I've used that phrase in a sentence - I like it), I pulled on a side street and used my best "call dog" voice possible "Come here, baby, come here darlin'!" Like a pro, the little dog turned around and ran over to me like we'd been pals for years. What a cute, cute beagle (one of my favorite breeds)! So, I picked the dog up and put her in my car. Actually, I opened my car door, and she jumped right in. At that point I KNEW she was someone's pet - also the huge dog tag dangling from her neck was a good indication.

So, first thing's first - what's her name? Gypsy. Cute. It's obvious from her running away shenanigans that the name suits her pefectly. Is there a phone number? YES! So, I nervously dialed the number from my cell phone hoping that her owner would pick up. Answering machine. DAMN! Ok, so I left a message. On to the next number. Within a second Gypsy's owner answered the phone. I explained to him that I had his dog and that she was running around on a busy street. He and a friend had been out looking for her. She must've turned into David Copperfield for a second and escaped without a trace.

So, we made plans to meet at my office b/c he lived down a nearby street and was out and about anyway. I get to my office and he's already there waiting for me. He's super excited that he found his dog and extremely grateful. He kept calling me a "good samaritan" and telling me "you done good, girl". I was very happy to be able to facilite a reunion with his dog. I could tell that she was well taken care of. I went home and kind of forgot about the whole situation.

Fast forward to today.

I get back from having lunch with my co-workers, and one of my other co-workers tells me that the man brought by a card for me and told her about what had happened. Up until this point, I hadn't told the story to anyone because I didn't really think they'd care. So, I explained everything to them. They know how much of an animal fanatic I am, so it came as no surprise to them.

Well, I was quite surprised! When I opened the card the man gave me, 5 lottery tickets fell out. I'm not much for the lotto - Joe and I will buy one or two tickets every once in a while, but I never pay it too much mind. I do have to admit, though, now I'm kind of excited to see how this pans out. It's kind of like the "pay it forward" principle. If you haven't seen the movie, go out and rent it tonight. Does one good deed really transpire into more good deeds? What if these lottery tickets are actually worth something? How crazy would that be? I will have to keep you posted.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Dead Zones.

I do what I can to stay sharp mentally - I always keep up with the latest celebrity news and gossip, I watch tons of informative TV shows like Cops and Reno 911, I spend countless hours playing computer Solitaire and Free Cell, you know, all the stuff that keeps our brains in tip-top shape. ;) However, as I age, I've noticed something that's somewhat alarming... "dead zones" are starting to occur more frequently.

What are dead zones, you may ask?

Come along, and I'll explain.

Have you ever been approached by an old high school chum, you know, your best bud with whom you shared many happy memories? As you two catch up on the good ol' days, you sit back and try to jog your memory to keep up with the stories your friend is spewing out. There's one problem, though - half of the stories you're hearing about mustn't have involved you because surely you'd remember them, right? Your friend swears up and down that you were there, you did play an active role in the situation, and that s/he can't believe you don't remember - how dare you!

This, my friend, is a dead zone.

Legal definition of dead zone: periods of time that your brain has mis-filed into some arbitrary filing cabinet that's buried and stored away from the rest of the useless data that our brain retains. Some dead zone cabinets contain small file folders of data, mine contains at least 2 tons of data (perhaps more).

Dead zones aren't always about stories from our past. Dead zones can also include the following:

1) Forgetting how to spell simple words like cat or dog
2) Forgetting when your own birthday is and how old you really are (although sometimes this is intentional)
3) Forgetting how to form a complete
4) Sentence
5) Forgetting the name of your first born, or, on a lesser scale, your husband.

The list goes on and on; however, I'm experiencing a dead zone right now and can't remember what else should be on the list.

In all seriousness, I have noticed a pretty serious decline in my mental capacity. I read papers that I wrote while I was in college, and I'm truly amazed that I was able to articulate my thoughts onto paper so well (sorry if that sounds like I'm bragging). Now I find that I have a hard time writing a complete sentence much less a 20 page paper on King Lear.

My fear is that this decline will keep happening and I won't be able to tie my shoes by the time I'm 40. What if that happens? What if Joe won't tie my shoes for me? I guess I'll have to purchase velcro shoes like I had when I was in the first grade. They were very sexy shoes - gray velvet with pink velcro straps.

Please tell me how I can remember that useless bit of information but I can't remember my senior prom?

Oy vey!

Monday, July 10, 2006

My Dog Ate My Ipod.

Oh, the joys of pet ownership.

Although Cosmo is gradually moving away from his bad puppy/adolescent phase of development, he still reverts back to his old ways sometimes. Case in point - the other day I heard him chewing something under the bed. This is a fairly common occurrence since he likes to hide out under the bed while I'm getting ready in the mornings. He usually brings his toys under the bed and chews them for a while; however, sometimes he'll find something "chewable" in our closet (unbeknownst to me) and go to town. I usually catch him before he inflicts too much damage on the object of choice.

So, just like every other day, it went down like this:

1) I see Cosmo's butt partially sticking out from under the bed. My first thought - hmm, he's chewing something.
2) I stand quietly and listen for a second - yep, he's eating something alright (I can hear his giant teeth crunching down very hard).
3) I decide to quit being lazy and just bend down to see what he has in his mouth.
4) I'm on all fours trying to see what's going on under the bed. It's dark, it's scary, and its dangerous.
5) I catch a glimpse of something white - something hard, plastic-y and white - something Ipod'ish in nature.
6) Cosmo looks at me and is scared. He immediately drops the object from his mouth and runs for cover.
7) I reach under the bed and clumsily feel around for the object.
8) When my hand finally comes into contact with the object I realize that it's not a credit card, a clothes pin, a shoe, a piece of sticky tape that gets cat/dog hair off of clothing, a hair clip, a rubber band or any of the other thousands of items that Cosmo eats on a daily basis. It's my little Shuffle. My free gift (I won it at Joe's Christmas party). My source of entertainment during my daily jogs. My life.

Ok, that was a bit too dramatic, but I was pissed off nonetheless. What's equally as upsetting is that the Ipod wasn't even out in plain site of the dog. The furry bastard actually went into my purse, dug to the bottom of it with his wet dog nose and pulled it out with his teeth - all the while I'm totally clueless all this is going down.

So, now I have no Ipod.

I still have a dog, though. Anyone want a mixed mutt w/ expensive taste in doggy toys?

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