The Princess and the Four Legged Pumpkin

Okey Dokey, People!

 

So, we’re driving home from doing errands on Saturday, when I notice a rag-a-muffin little white dog in a Halloween pumpkin costume nervously running from one thing to another, lifting his hind leg and peeing on everything that’s not moving.

 

I look at the Princess and say, “Hm, I think this little pumpkin is lost. He looks like he’s seen a ghost or two from last night and appears a little traumatized. We’d better stop the car and see if ‘Mr. Pumpkin’ here, has a home.”

 

I’m pulling over to the side of the street, when I hear the Princess say (in what I assume she felt was her most enticing doggy voice), “Come here, Little Pumpkin. Come on over ta Momma.”

 

“Dam,” she continues, “I wish we had some doggy treats!”

 

“Uh hun”, I’m thinkin’, “WTS?! Why would we (the owner of TWO CATS!!) be driving around with doggy treats in our car?”

 

“Ok”, I mumble to myself, “Whatever! It’s Princess logic. You never question Princess logic. Just go with it, Lucie. There’s no time to argue with her Highness. Just go with it.”

 

At this point, I assume the dog is more interested in finding another place to relieve himself, because the next thing I know, we’re looking at this little orange ball of matted fur go speeding down the street and out of sight, like a bat outta hell!

 

I’m looking at the Princess with total disbelief, shaking my head, and mumbling, “Pumpkin?!  Pumpkin?! You seriously called the dog Pumpkin? And told him to come ta Momma?!”

 

“Really? Seriously?”

 

“You probably scared the shit outta him, and who knows where Mr. Pumpkin is headed for at this point?!  His owners are probably worried sick over the little guy, and you try to entice him with, ‘Come to Momma?!’ ”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“For Chriminy sakes, Woman! I don’t blame the little guy! He probably got insulted when you called him Pumpkin and high tailed it for who knows where!” I continue.

 

“Now what the heck are we gonna do?” I sarcastically inquire, while shaking my head in total disgust.

 

“Geesch!”

 

And if Her Highness isn’t feeling bad enough for losing him, I continue to lay on another layer of guilt and tell her, “Some kid’s probably ballin’ his eyes out over the little fella and just worried sick over him.”

 

“Well, for Pete’s sake, Lucie,” her Highness snaps back, “Ya wanna shut up with the dramatics and start driving around looking for him?”

 

“We’re wasting time!” she barks. “ He’s probably headed back to the Pumpkin Patch, for all we know!”

 

“Drive around the corner, and let’s see if he’s made it to the end of the street by now.”

 

We get to the end of the block, and (sure enough) we spot Pumpkin, himself, eyeballing one of the neighbor’s bushes for his next “relief station”.

 

I’m taking a quick assessment of the situation and thinkin’ to myself, “If the Princess gets outta the car and s l o w l y approaches him, maybe I can kinda corral  him with the car between her and the bushes, and she can grab ahold of him and get a look at his collar for some i.d.

 

Uh hun.

 

Well, that was the plan, anyhow!

 

So her Highness jumps outta the car and starts running after the little guy, totally ignoring my pleas to her to “go slowly” and before you know it, the Princess slips head over tea kettle into the mud and takes a header into the bushes.

 

(Did I tell you that after having a draught for the past 8 months, we got rain last night? Well, we did – got rain, that is.)

 

By this time, I’m laughing my butt off, and Pumpkin looks scared shit-less and headed for who knows where, when out of nowhere Mr. Happy Feet himself (jogging in the neighborhood) eyeballs the situation and as nonchalant as can be, scoops the little fella up with one hand, brings him over to us, and ever so calmly inquires, “This little guy belong to you?”

 

By this time, her Highness is disgustingly wiping the mud off the front of her (previously) clean white shirt and trying to straighten out her new designer glasses that she just picked up last night, don’t ’cha know (all the while staring at ME, as if this whole mess is MY fault!); when I calmly say to Mr. Happy himself, “No, not really.”

 

“We were just trying to get him back to his rightful owner,” I continue, “but we’re having a helluva time catching the mutt to get his i.d. from his collar. Thanks for catching him for us!”

 

Now all the while I’m saying this, Mr. Happy Feet is eyeballing the Princess and me from head to toe, and, I guess, trying to assess the situation for the little Pumpkin’s safety and well-being. (Wouldn’t wanna leave the little guy with 2 crazy old women, I guess!)

 

(Actually, I don’t know what the hell he was doing. I just know that I’ve seen “that look” before! If you recall, I’m kinda accustomed to being eyeballed  for drool and lotion goobers and the like. So for ME, it really wasn’t any big deal.)

 

But the Princess, don’t ’cha know, is a highly respected business woman (or so she likes to think!), and she let me know later that evening that she didn’t appreciate how Mr. Happy Feet, himself, eyeballed her while she gingerly picked the branches outta her hair!

 

Anyway, Mr. Happy Feet eventually assesses that we’re rather harmless old women (despite the fact that one of us–NOT ME, of course!–definitely looked a tad deranged with her soiled clothing, hair with branches sticking out every which way and tweaked designer glasses) and reluctantly handed over the mangy little mutt to us so we could call the numbers listed on his collar.

 

After mud wrestling with the little fellow for 5 or so minutes, the Princess finally gets a phone number to call from the i.d.on his collar, and I contact the owner.

 

“ Hi”, I say to the woman answering the phone, “We think we’ve got your dog. Would you happen to be missing a little white-haired pooch wearing a pumpkin costume?” I continue.

 

“No”, she slowly answers, “I don’t think so”.

 

And before I could say another word, we hear her yelling, “Henry?!  You know where Spider is?”

 

(Yeah, I know! I’m sure you’re thinkin’ the same thing I thought: they actually made SPIDER wear a PUMPKIN costume! Whatever! Little Spider’s probably gonna end up in doggie-therapy for a year, but that’s a story for another day, People!)

 

“No”, we hear Henry answer in the background, “haven’t seen him in awhile.”

 

“Why?” he continues.

 

“Well, some lady’s calling saying she’s got Spider down on McKinley and Main Street,” she yells at him. “Could you see if he’s in the back yard?”

 

By this time, I’m looking at the Princess who has mud from head to toe, and has tweaked her new, designer glasses that she JUST picked up last night, don’t ’cha know, and I’m thinkin’, “Really?! Seriously?”

 

But wait!!!! The story gets even wackier!!!!!

 

The next thing we hear is Henry yelling back to his wife, “ I don’t know where the heck Spider is, Sara, but we’ve got a soccer game in 20 minutes! And we don’t have time for this monkey business! Tell them to keep him, ’till we get back!!! I’m not driving all the way up to McKinley to pick him up, and we’re not gonna miss the boy’s soccer game over that dam dog, again!”

 

OMG!

 

“I could be wrong, but maybe little Spider here was actually trying to run AWAY from this family?!”

 

What da ya think, Peoples???

 

Life in our shoes is sure weird sometimes! Go out and have yourselves a laugh and a snicker on us today! You certainly deserve it!!! (I know we do!!!)

 

P.S. As of this posting, Spider is happily (we hope!) home with his family. We, on the other hand, have a car full of muddy dog prints, one torn up, stained shirt, and a tweaked pair of glasses! But hey, as long as there’s a special place reserved in Heaven for us, we’re good to go!!!