Most of you know by now that I'm not really an "animal person." I mean, some animals are cute and all... but from afar. I'd rather they not sit on me, rub up against me, or beg me to rub their bellies. I have learned, however, to PRETEND really well when necessary to care about the animals I encounter in my work as a real estate agent. There are a lot!
Earlier last year, I had the immense pleasure of listing a home for a friend of mine. This dear friend has a beloved small dog (perhaps a Shih Poo, for heaven's sake!). We will call this dog Sally for the purpose of anonymity (and because, for the life of me, I cannot remember the dog's name). Sally was cooped up in the laundry room while the photographer and I were working to get pictures done. She howled and cried and barked the ENTIRE time. Even I, who tend to show no empathy toward animals, started to feel pretty bad for her. Once the photographer was done and gone, I let Sally out of the laundry room and she bounded out full of energy and excitement. My work was done, so I turned out all the lights, locked up, and headed home--leaving Sally in the house where I was supposed to leave her.
I got about a block away when I realized I had forgotten something in the house. I turned around and headed back. Without even thinking, I opened up the door to run inside. Well, Sally was very anxiously waiting at the door for someone to set her free and BOLTED out the door as soon as it was opened. "Oh my word," I thought, "I'm going to have to chase this dog, aren't I?" So I dropped my stuff and took off after her. Two things that are important to know. 1) I am not a runner! I forged a letter from my parents in the 6th grade excusing me from running the mile for the physical fitness test. 2) You already know, I am not a dog whisperer. I don't know the tricks in talking to dogs or luring them back home.
So I started chasing after this small Shih Poo in my professional attire and shoes. She would pause, and I would get close and say the things to her I thought a person should say to a small dog they are wanting to come to them. Then she would take one look at me and take off again. I ran after her, calling her name, all over the neighborhood. People stared, some laughed, some even slowed down in their cars to consider helping me (but none actually helped). I thought I would die before catching this dog. Somehow, though, by the grace of God, after about 20-30 minutes, Sally got distracted by something in someone's yard and stopped long enough for me to grab her. I couldn't believe I finally had her. So, I carried her all the way back home, at arm's length so as not to get any dog hair on me, and placed her back inside the house. I've never been more out of breath in my life. Oh, Sally! You little rascal!
Written by Becka Marston
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