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One of my first jobs was for a classified ad newspaper that was essentially a printed swap meet with various losers selling their crap to other losers, such as:
FOR SALE: Birdcage, dented on one side but comes with mirror.
or
Screen for screen door. Door NOT included.
...and so on. My job was to take these little scraps and lay them out on a Macintosh so old I swear that Steve Jobs had made it himself.
The winner who ran this broad sheet of sadness was this fat, balding guy who had this look of constant "Huh?". He was nondescript in every sense of the word, as boring and beige and dull as dishwater. He was also deeply lonely, constantly asking me about dates I had been on the night before. Next to him I was the Fonz as played by Tom Cruise.
One day he told me of his plan to meet women. A nearby park was one of the few in the area that allowed dogs off the leash. You could let the dogs run about, and the dog owners would hang and talk about what cute/irritating thing their dogs had done that day. Bob's (not his name but might as well have been) plan was thus: he would get a dog, take it to the park and meet the many women who frequented there. His dog would play with her dog, and the ice would be broken like a spring thaw in Hell.
As far as plans go, this wasn't a bad one. Not original, but that was its strength: time-tested and practical. I'm sure many a wedding toast has started with "When I rescued Scrappy from the pound I never dreamed he would lead me to true love." I told Bob that it was a good plan and he seemed satisfied. I went back to squeezing an ad about a used barber chair underneath a thank you to St. Jude.
A few days later he brought his new pet into the office. The dog's mother must have been the center of a canine orgy, because I could not for the life of me figure out which bits came from which breed. He was a collage of doggy DNA, a melting pot of mutt.
I petted him and he responded favorably, even rolled over so I could rub his tummy. That's when I noticed the scar. It ran over his belly to his back. I winced.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I don't know, didn't see that." Bob replied.
At lunchtime, he took the dog, christened Billy (not his real name) to the park.
He came back two hours later with no dog and a black eye.
I stared at him, and this is the story he told:
As planned, he had taken Billy to the park and let him off the leash in hopes that Billy's super dog senses would pick out the dog whose owner was an attractive single female. Billy ran off, making a beeline for a large German Shepherd. Billy then leapt into the air and bit the German Shepherd on the snout so hard that Billy got pretty much stuck. In shock and pain, the German Shepherd ran (with Billy dangling from his bleeding snout) to his owner, an attractive single woman.
The lady naturally freaked out, trying to pry the deranged mutt off her howling German Sheppard. Billy didn't like this, so he went from the snout of the dog to the hand that fed the dog. Bob ran over to help (or get her phone number) when she managed to yank her hand away and smack Bob in the eye. Billy ran off, attacking more dogs until the cops showed up.
While I stared at him, a Mr. Toad's Wild Ride of emotions went through me. Part of me wanted to laugh, part of me was horrified at the animal's pain, and there was a deep wave of sympathy for poor Bob. All of these feelings cancelled each other out and I asked, "Where's Billy?"
"Back at the Humane Society. They need to test him or something. The police say I might be charged, and the lady was screaming about calling her lawyer."
"Oh," I said. And then I did the only thing I could do. "I've gotten a job offer and, uh, today's my last day."
That may seem cruel and heartless, but the fact is I would not have been able to work there without eventually laughing, and poor Bob had had enough.
I don't know what happened to Bob and Billy, but I like to think that at some point he met his true love, and the wedding toast went, "It was the saddest day when they put little Billy to sleep ... but the happiest because the lady that held the needle had the bluest eyes I had ever seen."
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Like This? Rate It!
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Side-splitting
23 votes
5.0
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10 Comments on "Love's Labrador Retriever Lost"
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John Hargrave 128,746  73
06/16/2003 11:27 AM
Everybody always loves the dog humor, especially when it involves dogs viciously attacking each other. (Which is where Air Bud 2 went wrong -- they cut out all those scenes.)
Thanks for the funny article, Salvage.
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Bonky 75,728 15
06/16/2003 11:32 AM
I have a white line across my stomach.
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Bonky 75,728 15
06/16/2003 11:34 AM
Only when they're feeding me Knopplers!
When is that fellow coming to Texas anyway?
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Trae, Mistress of the Webinet 156,785 17
06/16/2003 11:37 AM
As soon as he can figure out how to pay for the trip. Maybe I'll send him via truck driver express?
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Bonky 75,728 15
06/16/2003 11:39 AM
I've got some hot pickled somethings for him.
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Trae, Mistress of the Webinet 156,785 17
06/16/2003 11:44 AM
I was just thinking about sending the things to you because they are staying in my apartment and not paying rent. They are freeloaders!
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salvage your God for this evening 28,986 12
06/16/2003 12:17 PM
I felt a bit bad sending the story off then I remembered that Bob's computer was so old that it couldn't get on a BBS much less the Internet.
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Bonky 75,728 15
06/16/2003 04:25 PM
BBS? Bob is Pobble, isn't he?
Trae, those bastards! I bet I could find a companion for Larry if'n I looked in the dust covered hiding place in my garage.
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0 votes
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Livewire, tardbot B-4 78,229 13
07/10/2003 02:56 PM
I somehow missed this article when it was first posted.
Hilarious! If the story weren't already Seinfeld-worthy, it was worth reading just for the part in the middle about the dog's breed ("canine orgy" killed me).
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