Saturday Shenanigans

This is the kind of shenanigans I get into when my Beloved is at work on the weekends.

A few Saturdays ago, I decided to treat my self and I had a mani/pedi/eyebrow shape date. It was wonderful. Having my eyebrows done means I walk away with angry pink skin that makes it look like I have a questionable rash. Every time. 

But it's okay!! Because the rest of my plans for the day involved staying in my house. Unbothered. 

But it's me....so....

I leave my appointment, pick up lunch and head home. Alice and I are eating our lunch when the door bell rings.

Our door is built to where if it's bright enough, you can see a shadow walking up to it from outside so there was no sneaking up without answering.

I open the door to a man and his grown son who just look at me. It takes me a second to realize his son is holding a very old Weiner dog. I recognize said dog because this is not my first encounter with him.

Me "Oh! He lives next door!"

The Dad "Okay, great! I didn't know which house it was."

They leave to take him home.

The doorbell rings again.

They're back. With the dog.

The Dad "They're not home." *awkward silence and staring*

My Internal dialogue - what am I supposed to do? I'm not the one that found him.

What I actually say "okay, I'll take him."

This dog is blind and older than dirt. This is at least the third time I've encountered him and I'm pretty sure he is just trying to go towards the light and keeps getting lost.

The last time the dog was put in my arms (by a different neighbor who found him), I placed him back in their backyard with their other dogs. They have two younger dogs. (These dogs often get out and sometimes visit our backyard.) When I put the little dog in their yard, he immediately snapped at the younger dogs. I'm convinced the younger ones are actively digging holes for him to sneak out in hopes he'll disappear.

I take the dog and bring him inside. He bumps around with Alice following him making sure he doesn't hurt himself. I text the neighbor letting him know he's with us.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rings for the third time. 

I let him come in and I ask him what the dogs name is because I've spent enough time with him, I want to know what to call him next time.

The neighbor has to think about it. 

What?

He say "He's really old, we just call him Wiener. He's Rachel's childhood dog, she's had him for forever and we don't remember what his name started out as."

The heck?

Whatever, he takes the dog.

In a span of thirty minutes, I've greeted three neighbors, two of which I have never seen before, looking like I have some kind of plague.

I really shouldn't be shocked this is how my Saturday turned out....

Until next time....