A while back when I posted the story about losing Dolly while I was on watch, I'd commented that I'd seen another dog, a senior doxie mix and thought it belonged to someone who was fishing.
Turns out it doesn't. He's been on the base for months now, and runs away when you try to get near it.
I wanted to be sure it was the same dog I'd seen so I had the young Yeoman in our office take me to where the dog was laying. It was in a field that's been cleared for a parking lot. It had been raining all day Wednesday and had a big thunderstorm Wednesday night, so the ground was a bit soft.
While in pursuit of the dog, just to see where it ran to, we ventured across the lot, cautiously stepping onto the wet sandy soil.
I wasn't quite cautious enough because I sunk ankle deep, mud over my socks and shoes into the mire.
The dog was probably laughing from the shade.
I know we were.
When I finally reach dry ground, the dog is long gone
When I first saw him, he was fine. He now has a limp.
I got with the more adventurous dudes in the command and asked if they had a live trap and that if they caught him, I'd hook him up with the vetting and a place to stay. He's a senior dog, and got along fine with the anipals when they sniffed him our first meeting.
Fortunately, there's a lot of dog lovers at the command and I think we can get something done before it's too late.
I hope they can catch him. I'm worried about him. Who'd let an old dog like him fend for himself, to the point where he no longer wants anything to do with people?
I would've been much more upset, but I couldn't stop laughing about the mud up to my ankles. My feet were completely submerged, and it was just too funny for me, standing there, laughing my ass off about being there.
I had to cross the quarterdeck in my socks, and change into my running shoes after I'd washed my ankles in the sink in the bathroom. That mud stanks.