Charity Never Faileth

Well, I deleted this blog because I didn't want to be disrespectful, but it seems as if I had a slight cultish-type following who enjoyed this post. I'll try again-

Have you ever thought it hard to make a dinner for a new mom or sick friends, even thought you really wanted to? I regret ever complaining or grumbling about this again! It's not that I DON'T want to make a casserole or put together some sort of edible creation for these poor folks that are sick or having a hard time or are welcoming a new baby...it's just that I usually don't know what my own family will be having for dinner - and usually it's not gourmet or all that exciting! An extravagant meal of mac-n-cheese or beenie weanies isn't quite the thing to take over to the neighbors or to welcome the new babe, ya know?

Well, from now on I'm not complaining about taking over dinner!

The other day, I was asked to look in on a little dog - the mom of the house had taken ill and had been in the hospital, and the dog needed to be let outside. No big deal! Sure, I can do this! I have a lovely dog, and was raised with dogs and cats and actually (usually) like dogs - sorry, Jack, you've occasionally heard otherwise. So, around dinner-time one night and after a slight ordeal of obtaining the house keys and locating the house, I unlocked the front door. As I pushed the door open, sirens blared...oops! The homeowners had forgotten to tell me they have an alarm...and subsequently, I didn't have the security code to turn it off! After several conversations with the alarm company (who called a few times on the house phone), trying to hear through the screaming blare of the siren and the LOUD barking of the "very nice dog" (which I was pleasantly surprised to have found locked in her crate) the alarm was finally turned off. Don't worry - it went on again several more times.

Anyway, back to business...so I went over to the crate to let out "Princess," the sweet little miniature schnauzer. She had the shrillest bark ever and was bouncing around her crate like no one's business. When I reached down to unlatch the crate, she tried to bite my hand off as if she were a shark going after a surfer's bloody arm. Not to be discouraged from my task, I then saw the basket of dog toys. I pulled out a toy and used it to pry open one of the two locks on the crate, when I then thought "Am I totally crazy or what?" What was I planning on doing once Princess charged out of the crate? She was ready to eat me alive! So I used that same doggie toy to push the lock back into locked position as Princess was still displaying her mean side (barking, growling and flipping all over the crate) and thankfully she didn't realize that she had almost been delivered her freedom! Oh yes, I had on just shorts, a t-shirt and flip-flops - I was a prime target for biting and gnawing.

I called Brian on my cell and explained the situation not-so-calmly...and he asked something to the effect of, "Are you afraid of some little mini-dog?" I retorted that indeed, I was (replying not-so-sweetly and quite urgently!) and told him he needed to come over ASAP to help me out. I also made sure he understood that this was no sweet non-biter; she was an attack dog, or at least she was prepared to defend her territory! So he showed up about 8 minutes later in his work clothes (he was due to be at church meetings for youth night right after dinner) and he also donned the 2 new sunny yellow OVEN MITTS I'd bought at Target that very day! This is one resourceful dude (although I was slightly saddened that they were being used for this purpose...I do admire his creativity!)

As he entered the house and the alarm went off again, Brian witnessed the frenzied Princess in the crate and echoed my thoughts as to her friendliness - or lack thereof...and after trying to open the latches WITH oven mitts protecting him, he opted to carry the entire crate to the back door and set Princess free that way, quickly closing the door after she was expelled from the crate. We leaned back and together let out a sigh of relief, at the same time realizing that Princess wasn't "doing her thing" but barking at us. After being outside for a bit, she had decided not to come back inside or into her crate again. Brian finally coaxed her back inside (while I hid in the laundry room with the door mostly closed, just in case she decided to attack me) and he couldn't get her back into the crate. After an endless amount of time spent trying to return her to her crate, and with Princess at least inside the house, Brian finally locked the back door and grabbed the house keys. I scooted out from my post in the laundry room and out the front door as Princess barked wildly from her new lookout on the beautiful white carpeted stairs. We crossed our fingers and hoped that Princess didn't go wild in the pristinely clean home as we locked the front door and said a quite thankful prayer that we escaped with our lives.

Anyone have a recipe for chicken broccoli casserole or funeral potatoes?