I Hate This Place IV: Animal Control

They've put the dog outside again. God knows how long he's been there this time; I just woke up. It's 90 degrees today. I called animal control, got a "no longer in service" message, called ANOTHER branch of the same office and was told the number had changed. Called the new number, got routed to an investigation service, then finally spoke to someone's answering machine. In typical "can't leave a coherent message to save my life" fashion, I managed to stammer out the situation, the address, and my phone number, but forgot to leave my name, and said "North Saint Paul" instead of "North End of Saint Paul" and couldn't remember if Triple Murder Street was a Street or an Avenue.

I also gave them the intersection closest to the house for navigation purposes, so they ought to find the place pretty easily. It came right up on Mapquest even when I put in "ave" instest of "st."

But that's just me angsting because my OCD wants to leave 8 more messages and truly annoy the piss out of whoever has to listen to them. Resist, Luka, resist! The good news is that I called and someone SHOULD be showing up to tell these people not to put their fucking dog out all day with no water. At least the poor bastard is in the shade while he waits for someone to come yell at his owners.

Meanwhile, the Captain has taken to standing on my legs with his head pressed firmly against me. Then he curls up in my lap, which is alarming considering his size compared to the size of my lap. Bits of dog hanging off everywhere.

I'm starting to feel like getting him might not have been such an enormous mistake. And that's saying something if you take into account the fact that he jumped his 4 food pen gate last night and went frolicking around the house while I was at the grocery store. I've taken to leaving little gaps between the gates in hopes that he can't manage anything higher, but he's seriously growing into his hunting dog physique, so it might be time for a third gate. Lucky for me they're only $10.