Saving Bit Bit

I am one of those people that cries when the ASPCA commercials air on television, which is most likely do with my inability to control my emotional spectrum and less to do with my heart of gold.  I also have the incessant urge to save all animals from dire consequences, and one day, I vowed to myself, I would help reunite a lost pup with its owner.

That day came yesterday.

I walked into the house, and through the living room, I could see a tiny, white dog flitting about in the backyard.  I piled my belongings on the counter and ran outside to investigate a little more.  Perhaps someone next door is dog-sitting for a friend, I thought.  With everyone outside and no one calling for this dog, I found my answer.

So, the next item on my newly created agenda was to catch the little dog.  I ran back inside and grabbed Bailey’s old pink leash (she was put down a few weeks ago and I kept it for sentimental purposes), a few biscuits, and darted outside to find said tiny, white dog again.  He was still roaming the backyard, sniffing piles of Aries poo-poo and subsequently peeing on them.  Men.  They are all the same.

It took a little while to corner tiny, white dog because a) he was barking LOUD AS HELL and b) he kept trying to nip me.  Finally, after commanding the dog to SHUSH! and SIT DOWN!, he calmed down enough that he was not so nippy.   He still wouldn’t stop walking around with his tiny white tail between his legs, so I cornered him on the patio.  After a few gentle pats on the back, I slipped the leash onto his collar.

I know someone must be missing him because he looked like he was pretty loved.  He wore a blue collar with little gemstone-studded letters that spelled “woof” on his collar.  Once he was on a leash and walking with me, he was perfectly fine.  He pulled on the leash, but when I can hold a dog back with my pinkie finger, it does not bother me so much as when I have to throw my entire body into wrangling Aries (who no longer walks on a leash like a complete ASS – that habit has been BROKEN).

We walked down our side street, crossed the main road, and began a trek up to the only stoplight and intersection in town to sit down and see if anyone came by to claim tiny, white dog.  As I approached the first side street, I saw an SUV driving up the road.  Wouldn’t it be great if that were the owner, I thought.  The person could just stick their head out of the window and yell, “tiny, white dog!  Where have you been?!”

And guess what happened.  Yep.  Except replace “tiny, white dog” with “Bit Bit!” and the story is exactly the same.

The guy jumped out of the SUV and immediately asked if he could give me something, anything.  I politely declined and told him that I only did what I hoped someone would do for me, but I did suggest he have his girlfriend (the true owner who didn’t ride along because she was sick with worry they would find him dead along the road) purchase a little name tag with a telephone number on it, just in case. 

I felt pretty awesome.  It was nice to be able to make a small difference in the life of another…lucky little Bit Bit.


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