All right, well while I’m here, here’s a story you may find moderately amusing. Last week I was supposed to go for a walk with my friend Erica, who lives nearby. She didn’t show at the appointed time and place. Perplexed, I went to move my car, which I had to do anyway, and ran into her a few streets over. She said, “Have you seen a little dog?” I said no. She said, “There’s this little dog. He’s been running up and down my street all day. I think he’s lost. I’m afraid he’s going to get himself run over. I want to catch him.” For reasons that are no longer clear to me, this seemed like a good idea. What can I say? I’m highly suggestible, and I like doing people favors.
I spotted a little dog and said, “You mean that little dog?” She looked, nodded, and said, “I’m going to go get some cheese to lure him in.” I said I’d keep an eye on where the little dog went, but I quickly lost track of him. You’d be surprised how many places there are for a little dog to hide in a parking lot. Erica came back, and I had to confess that I didn’t know where the little dog had gone. As I was saying this, I spotted him again, down an alley. Something had occurred to me. I said, “You know, it seems like I just saw a poster at Ralph’s for a lost dog. And the reward was like $500.” I hadn’t really been paying attention, but it seemed like the dog in the poster was a little yellow-brown rat-dog like this one was. Erica said, “It’s $1,000. Those posters are all over campus too. But it’s not the same dog.” I said, “Are you sure?” She said, “Pretty sure.” I said, “For $1,000, maybe we should make sure.” I was suddenly a lot more interested in catching this dog.
Erica had brought back a big hunk of cheese and a belt. She was going to lure the dog in with the cheese, then slip the belt around its neck like a leash. I have never owned a dog and am not really a dog person, and this dog could tell from a hundred yards away that it didn’t like me, so I kept out of sight while Erica tried to lure it in. She sat very still and would toss little pieces of cheese to the dog, gradually trying to lure it closer. It was very skittish, and would bolt whenever she moved a hand anywhere near it or whenever a car passed nearby. I think she almost had it when a girl came up behind her and was like, “HEY, WHAT’S UP, ARE YOU TRYING TO CATCH THAT DOG?” at which point the dog took off.
Erica and I conferred. A big SUV came by and drove over her belt, which she’d left lying next to her cheese. She picked up the belt and groaned. “This belt is ruined.” I was getting impatient and said, “Look, let’s just chase the dog down. I mean, come on, its legs are like two inches long, how fast can it really run?” We fished some cardboard boxes out of a nearby dumpster. I think back on this now and I really don’t know what I was thinking. Like, what was our plan, exactly? I have much more sympathy now for everyone who’s ever pled temporary insanity. Anyway, we tried to be subtle and cornered the dog behind the dumpster. I thought Erica was going to get him, but he suddenly decided to rush me, which surprised me. I probably could’ve gotten him, but all of a sudden he was like, “ROWROWREOEOROW!,” which scared the shit out of me. It was the first noise I’d heard him make. He slipped past me and squeezed through a fence.
By this point, Erica was irritated with the dog for getting her belt run over, and I was irritated with him for scaring the shit out of me, and I found myself feeling more and more apathetic on the issue of whether or not he got himself run over. Erica said, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think he’s a lost dog. I think he’s just a straight-out stray dog. I don’t think a house dog would be this skittish.” I said, “I think we should check the reward poster and see if it’s the same dog, and if not just say to hell with it.” Erica was like, “It’s not the same dog,” and I said, “Well, let’s just check.” So we walked over and found one of the reward posters. I stared at it, and was like, “Okay, well obviously it’s not exactly the same dog, but it’s pretty close,” and Erica was like, “This dog in the poster is a miniature poodle. The dog we’ve been chasing is some kind of mutt.” And I said, “Come on, they’re both little yellow-brown rat-dogs. That’s pretty close if you ask me.” So then we went for walk.
By a curious coincidence, Erica had recently related an incident that “happened to a friend of her cousin’s.” This individual was walking along the beach one day and saw an animal drifting in the ocean. They thought it was chihuahua and fished it out of the water. They revived the animal and took it home with them. They left it in their apartment with their cat while they went out to the store to get pet supplies. When they came home, they found that the animal had killed and largely consumed their cat. There was blood everywhere. The animal turned out to be not a chihuahua but a large cat-eating rat from China that had fallen off a shipping boat. I thought this was the most horrifying (and amazing) story I’d ever heard, and I quickly related it to my Chinese roommate, who expressed skepticism that such cat-eating Chinese rats exist. I tried googling it, but couldn’t really find anything. On a hunch, I tried Snopes.com, which debunks urban legends, and they had the whole story, which is completely made up, with the cat-eating giant rat in question supposedly originating in a wide variety of countries. Anyway, these two little rat-dog stories have somehow gotten comingled in my brain, and I now occasionally have nightmares that I’m being attacked by a cat-eating Chinese rat who rushes out from behind a dumpster barking loudly.
By the way, if you happen to spot an apricot-colored miniature poodle wandering in the vicinity of Jefferson and Hoover and answering to the name “Coco,” give me a call, I’ll split the take with you 50/50.
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