Maids Save the Mad Mutt

Who is this person? I’m so confused. Where’s my pack? Who’s my master? I’m so confused. I had a master and she gave me my name: Oky Dokey. She taught me not to go potty in the house and to sit. I miss her. She had a daughter and her daughter had two daughters or granddaughters, but now I’m with this strange guy. It’s my first night with this guy.  I’m so confused. See, my first master’s boyfriend decided my master was too dependent and put her in an ALF or A.L.F., but the ALF/A.L.F. didn’t accept dogs. And that’s what I am: I’m a dog. I’m a chigoranian (chihuahua, corgi, pomeranian), but the grandkids used to call me a mutt. I like the sound of chigoranian better. But my master went to an ALF/A.L.F. and her boyfriend took me to the pound. He didn’t ask my master, her daughter, her granddaughters, or me. He just took me to the pound. 

I hated the pound. There was no quiet in the pound and they put a new collar on my neck and a smelly t-shirt over me. It didn’t even smell like family; It smelled like barf. But I stayed there for seven sunsets. I hated it. Once a Great Dane got lose and tried to bite my tail off. One of the workers stopped her though.  

Then, one day, this guy came in and took me to a separate room. I hadn’t slept in seven sunsets so, since it was quiet in the room, I laid on this man’s lap and slept for about an hour. He then took me out to walk me, I went, and he praised me. Then, for better or worse, he signed papers and took me to where he lived. It was dusk. 

But then I went from a dog pound to a human pound. Old people surrounded this young man on all sides. He lived in something called, “A 50 plus community apartment building,” even though he’s only 30. (He’s disabled, that’s why they let him live there. At least that’s what he told me). Apartment, cage, Apartment, cage, they’re the same thing. Go ahead, laugh, I’m a dog suffering from claustrophobia and homesickness. I miss my old masters. So, I heard sounds outside my new master’s cage and then my new master left, and the claustrophobia started. I heard walking above me, walking below me, and then I heard walking on the other side of the walls at each side of my new owner’s cage. Whoever’s on the other side of this cage had to be trying to push the sides of the cage in and pushed the bottom of the cage up and the top of the cage down. I was scared, so I did the things any reasonable dog would do. I started howling as loud as I could so whatever was trying to crush this cage would know I was there. I howled and listened, but I still heard foot steps.

I had to get out of there. I would’ve run to my new master, but he’d left for something called work. So, I tried barking for a few minutes, but nobody opened the door. So, I thought and did what any reasonable dog would do: I started digging. My master said this front area is a kind of dirt called carpet, but if I could dig through the carpet, maybe I could dig under the door and make a tunnel to get out of there. I dug for ten minutes before I got this dirt up but there was really hard dirt beneath this dirt and even though I tried, I couldn’t dig through it. I listened. All the footsteps were still there, trying to squash me. 

Then, though, I heard footsteps on the front door and I was so scared, I peed on the floor. Then, though, the door opened and a young woman came in with a big cart and looked around the cage and said, “Mumma Mia! What happened, Oky Dokey?” I gave her the sad puppy eye look and she pet me for a few minutes. Her petting felt good. Then, she went into her big cart and took out a spray bottle and a rag and wiped up my pee, sprayed the weird dirt, waited, and used the rag to clean the weird dirt again. I could still hear the footsteps though and I was still scared, so I shivered. The nice lady said her name was Julia and she’s the cleaning lady my master hired, but her and her woman friends pet me and paid attention to me and even though I still heard the footsteps, it wasn’t as scary as when I was alone with the footsteps. Julia sat down with me for a few minutes and scratched my chest and rubbed my belly and somehow my fears dissipated. 

She looked at the carpet I dug up and said, “I dunno what we gonna do ‘bout that, Little One, Oy.” But, Julia put on the TV and the other ladies put on music and they vacuumed the parts of the weird dirt I hadn’t dug up, they sprayed blue stuff on the windows and wiped it down, and made the big water bowls in the bathrooms clean. They cleaned the tubs and sinks, too, all with gloves. Then, before they left, Julia and the others got a bag and took me for a walk. They didn’t rush me. I smelled the grass, the mulch, the trees, and other beautiful smells in nature and for a bit there were no footsteps. It was like Nirvana. Then, Julia took me back in, the ladies talked to me, pet me, and played with me. It was like I was back at the house I used to live in again and I wagged my tail. Julia wrote a note, took out a treat the guy left for me, pet me, kissed me, and they all left. Even though I still heard the footsteps on the walls, the walls weren’t moving in now and I knew I’d be ok.

A few hours later, the man who left me came back with three bags of groceries. He put the groceries on the counter, picked up the note, read the note, and put the groceries in the fridge. He said, “What happened, Oky Dokey? ” And he shrugged, sighed, and said, “Looks like I might need a dog sitter after all.”

I sure hope he picks Julia.