|Betty Keira considered the name of her temporary dog for several minutes. "Blot!" she said. |
"Escutcheon or landscape?" came the inevitable voice in her head.
Today, several of my children were off to visit their grandmother (the Dowager Baroness van Voorhees) and it was just me at home with Pledge One, who was diligently studying the finer points of English grammar in anticipation of his SATs.
"Is that a dog?" I asked, gazing across the back expanse of sweeping green lawn abutting the Professor Baron's ancestral home. "And without a collar too...Oh the poor dear."
Pledge One sprang into action, checking on the pup and offering a dish of water, as I trotted out to the drive, holding one well-manicured hand over my brow and looking across the flat, Dutch countryside for any sign of the owner. Alas. Not so much as a bicycling tour of British nurses was to be seen.
After attending to Blot's needs, I sent a letter to my near neighbor in a tight, elegant hand. My Dutch, you see, is lacking (Professor Wit seems to think I am coming along nicely but my verbs do get in such a tangle. Oh what a beastly language Dutch is!) and she would know just what to do. Mevrouw Alberts is the dearest woman. She looks so bland when the Professor Baron is late for our dinner parties, is always a font of knowledge and never attempts to poach my husband.
Meanwhile, Blot was on his finest behavior--padding around the lawn, sniffing and inspecting, waiting most patiently in a sitting position when food was offered.
|When attending his business, I am happy to report that Blot did not compromise |
the dignity of the Professor Baron, the tulip beds or the ancestral mansion.
Mevrouw Alberts directed me to the local animal shelter and they popped over in a trice, discovered that Blot had been microchipped and delivered him directly to his owners.
All's well that ends well. Pledge One was sorry to see him go and it's just as well that Pledges Two through Five were away, as the mighty tsunami of sentiment would have been difficult to stand athwart.
During my adventure today, I discovered that any Beckys or Aramintas looking to perform a similar spot of animal rescue should keep the following in mind:
4. You will then need to contact us a second time to let us know that it has been over 90 days, you have done all of the above and you are now taking ownership of the animal.
That is Oregon, USA law, of course, and just applies to dogs. Last month, another neighbor and I were chatting across the street when her grandson found that a tiny newborn squirrel had fallen from its nest and onto her lawn. Ten minutes later, we discovered another just a few feet away, well-hidden in the grass and barely alive. With that, it was a simple matter of popping them into shoe boxes and keeping them hydrated long enough for her daughter's mother-in-law (who does animal rescue professionally) to come pick them up.
The Canon is rife with instances of saved kittens and rescued dogs--of small scissors or pen knives being used to extricate animals from danger. Do any of our Betties have any stories of that sort to share?