Beagle for Sale

oh. my. gosh. I have a story that if filmed, would be the perfect sitcom drama. It's one of those funny moments that you think never REALLY happens to someone...but oh, it happened yesterday. So, I'm driving down the road with Duke and Slater on the way to the park. What a good dog parent I am. The windows are down because the day is beautiful...and the dogs are all hanging out the window just....being dogs. When all of a sudden I look down and realize Duke is not sitting in the front seat anymore...I look out the window and see a brown flash fly across the highway.

Yes, the dog flew out the window...leapt, rolled, fell...whatever...he JUMPED OUT THE WINDOW!!! I pulled over, turned around and jumped out of the car. Of course, Slater is freaking out at this point...still stuck in the car. So, I'm yelling at Duke, running through a field of corn, and some woman in the trailer across the street comes out with her Miller High Life and ciggie hanging from her lips and says "he's long gone, you need to drive up on in that field...it's dry...you won't get stuck..." Being the rule follower that I am...my first thought was..."Isn't that illegal? Won't I get arrested?" The nice, helpful woman was all, "Nahh....get on in there!"

Then, I'm all like...hey...I drive an FJ Cruiser...it can totally handle this field. I drive into the field as far as I can...to the tree line on the other side and get out and start yelling for Duke. I can hear his collar jingle, I just can't see him. I'm seriously tempted to just leave him there at this point. I break through the brush and he's trotting down the railroad tracks like this is some grand adventure.

I finally get him to come to me and throw him in the car. I am soooo livid that I tear out of this field like the devil was at my heels. Well, at least that was the plan. But nooooo.....the ONE muddy spot in this entire field? I find it. My wheels start spinning and all kinds of not nice thoughts are running through my head. Panic mode sets in and all I can think is that some police office is going to pull up and arrest me for going mudding in someone's field. I call Trey and sob out the entire story and at the end he goes, "So what you're trying to tell me is....you need my help?" Yes, smart guy.

Well, Trey pulls up, gets in the car, turns on the 4 wheel drive (which, in my feminine state of uselessness, I forgot I had) and immediately gets the car unstuck. He (and not to mention the ciggie toting, beer guzzling woman who told me I wouldn't get stuck in the first place) is laughing at me this whole time. I drive my car home, mud flying from everywhere...where I spent the next hour cursing Duke and vaccuming the mud and dog hair from all inside my car.

So, this is why I ask...does anyone want a cute beagle that apparently thinks he's Underdog? Because seriously? Trekking through a muddy field searching for him once a year is so not for me.

I include this picture of my shoes for two reasons. One, to show the havoc I wreaked on them and two...I thought they'd feel left out if I didn't include them in the shoe journal...since I wear them everyday. They deserve some credit for the abuse I bestow on them!