So if all my past indiscretions haven't completely destroyed my chance of getting into heaven, then I think I'm in. St. Peter won't be able to resist letting in a woman who devoted her life to saving small dogs from becoming roadkill, could he? I mean, I don't know the guy, but he'd have to be real heartless for that (you know, like Judge Judy or something--she scares me).
There I was, driving down the road, minding my own business and texting away, I mean, paying very close attention to the road, when this little brown creature scurried across the road in front of my mommy-mobile (a.k.a. hideously uncool minivan). Since I was paying such careful attention to the road (thank GOD I am such a careful driver), I was able to swerve my giant child transporter out of the way so that I avoided hitting this little furry guy. As he ran down the side road, I could just make out his features to realize that it was a little brown Chihuahua (insert "AWWWW" here). So, being the lifesaving, kindhearted and extremely community conscious mommy that I am, I headed down the side road to follow him (and it had nothing to do with me thinking how much the kids would love a Chihuahua for Christmas).
As I drove down the road, the dog was nowhere to be found, and I almost turned around to go home, but I thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight not knowing if he got home safely (yes, I am a sappy sap sap with a very soft spot for dogs and babies--get over it!). And then I caught sight of him--running as fast as his little stubby legs could take him. So I pulled over and got out to see if he had a collar.
Now this is where the little devil and angel showed up on my shoulders to banter back and forth about what to do. Part of me said "take the dog and run sista," but of course the angel (of course I am definitely about 95 % angel) reminded me that there might be some handicapped kid on that street sitting in his wheelchair sobbing his eyes out because the dog that his dying grandmother had given him on her deathbed was nowhere to be found because some mini-van driving psychotic pet-snatching mommy had taken him back to her house for her children to torture, I mean, smother with love. But then I thought maybe it belonged to some crazy old guy that lived in his car and spent all his money on Jack Daniels and cigarettes and that he had thrown the dog out of a moving car cause he was sick of him tinkling on the car upholstery. So that got me mad. And I almost turned around with the little shaking ball of brown fur in my arms and took him home.
Damn you handicapped kid! Get out of my head!
The dog had been running through someone's yard, so I thought, "what the hell, we'll ring this dude's doorbell and see if he knows whose dog this is." So I did. Nobody answered. I looked around at all the other houses began across the road to try another when I heard a man's voice yelling "Hershey! Come here!"
I thought this might be the dog's owner (aren't my powers of deduction fantastic? Yes, I know; I am a mental gymnast).
I called to him and brought the dog over, and a relieved look washed over the man's face.
"You're an angel!" he said. (This I know, but it is always good to hear.)
So I placed my hand out looking for my reward and he shook it vehemently (yeah dude, not what I was looking for, but I figured I had a better chance of using this as my free pass to heaven if I wasn't greedy about it) and told me how much he appreciated it.
So I went home empty handed, my arms still warm from the little doggie's body heat, but I felt pretty good. I mean, karmically speaking, saving a dog must be good for a little bit of good luck coming my way right? And then there's the whole getting into heaven thing and I think this must be a big check in the "Yes" column for me.
What do you think? Am I in?
Love bestowed and love denied: the toddler years
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