Sunday, April 23, 2006

Whistling Dixie

John and I were roommates in college when I was pure nerd, still untouched by country life. He came to visit us a few years ago when we were in the old ranchito, and I think seeing me surrounded by horses, donkeys, and dogs was a bit of a shock. He was a good sport about it, though, and we were happy to involve him in our country fun.

One day Annie was driving him somewhere while I was at work, and she spotted a German short-haired pointer playing on the shoulder of the road in front of a house.She immediately pulled the truck over and leapt out, calling "Dixie! Come here, Dixie!" Bewildered, John followed and together they managed to get the happily panting dog into the back seat. John noticed a little boy on the porch of the house staring and pointing at them as they roared off, Annie explaining that one of our neighbors had a dog -- Dixie, a German short-haird pointer -- that kept getting lost.

"So we rescued Dixie, she could have been killed!" Annie said happily as they sped off back towards our neighborhood, awash in the glow of having done a good deed and eager to return Dixie to her grateful family.

John was quiet for a moment, studying the dog. A bit hesitantly (because come on, he's a city boy, what does he know from dogs?) he said "Um, Annie? Isn't Dixie a, you know, a girl dog name?"

"Well, yeah," Annie said, brows furrowing in confusion.

"I just ask because, um, that's not a girl dog," John said, pointing to an unmistakably male bit protruding prominently from the rescuee.

As it turned out the dog was not, in fact, either a female or Dixie, and actually lived at the house from which he was "rescued". I couldn't help but imagine the look on the little boy's face, sitting on the porch as the big black truck slammed to a stop and disgorged a frantic blonde, who hustled his beloved pet into the vehicle and roared away. Luckily the dognapping didn't last too long, as we brought Not-Dixie back that same night in red-faced embarrassment.

Yes, sometimes rescuing animals is an ugly, dirty business, but by gum someone has to do it!


John said...

Ah! I make a blog post! I'm so proud!

I remember the described "rescue" only all to well. Only I might add that "She immedediately pulled the truck over" doesn't quite describe the frantic, panic-stricken, braking, screeching, take-your-life-in-your-hands manner in which your lovely wife barrelled to a stop in order to rescue Not-Dixie. Ah, the visceral excitement of country life.

...and by no means was I, or am I, shocked by the good country life you enjoy! If anything, I envy it. Geez, I need to come out for a visit!

TexasAnnie said...

Hi John. You do need to come visit us at the ranch! Just last week our nieces got to see me go into rescue mode when I screamed from upstairs that I just saw a gorgeous Doberman run past our front gate and we had to go save it. We screeched down the driveway ready to help the lost Dobie when I got a good look at the dog...which turned out to be a VERY Doberman-looking COW. We decided that since the calf was safely in his own pasture, we did not have to rescue him that day. We DID find two horses loose running in front of a dump truck that day ... and they ran into someone's gated fence so I just shut them in. Now someone has two free horses!! :)