Mudhole Melodrama

I was talking to my sister on the phone yesterday, something I don't get to do often since she's halfway across the country, and someone kept beeping in on my cell phone. I hate call waiting. I really love the fact that I can tell when someone calls but I will not click over for you unless I think you have some mind-blowing emergency. I just won't. I hate it, I think it's rude, and I hate the beeping/cutting-out noise my Chuckberry makes when it happens.

So not the point of this post...
/tangent

So I look down at the screen to see that it's my friend beeping in. No problem, I'll call her back later. She beeps in again. I ignore it again. Then my home phone rings. (I would have ignored that one as well but Dexter has learned how to answer the phone and I haven't been able to get him to grasp the whole call screening thing. So he answers and asks who it is and throws me the phone, every.single.time it rings.)

WOW AJ stick to the point already!

So I say hello and my friend starts in on some story about a dog and her puppies that are loose across the street from the school. She's rambling about how there were three puppies that morning but when she came back at noon there were only two and they look like they're starving and they can't figure out who owns them and this lady from another town says she's going to take them to wamalart and find them a good home because obviously no one is taking care of them and oh my gosh this is inhumane and the owners aren't home at 12:30 in the afternoon so i better take the dogs because they're being neglected oh my goodness someone call animal control!!!!

*BREATHE*

I feel like this is a good time to remind everyone that there are at least 30 dogs wandering the streets of Mudhole at any given moment. If you've lived here long enough you've learned to ignore this and move on because we have no animal control. We have no law enforcement. We have a population of 300 (counting those dogs). But these two ladies aren't from around these parts. So stray puppies=sky falling.

What I say: It's no big deal, leave them alone, I'm sure they belong to so-and-so who lives in the blue single-wide.

What I am thinking: By the time I pick my kid up at 3pm the entire town will have heard about these dogs, and the old men at the coffee shop will have figured out who they belong to. You don't need to solve the mystery, Encylopedia Brown.

Back to my sister who has been waiting through this whole conversation. We talk for two minutes and the phone rings again.

Friend: Someone called the county sherriff and he's here going from door to door trying to find the owners. If he doesn't find them he's taking the puppies! Which house did you say you thought they belong to?? I'll go tell him!

What I say: Uhhh...please don't do that. Just leave it alone. It's none of our business.

What I am thinking: Umm yesterday someone went to that house looking for the parents of the kids who are outside playing 24/7 and found their crack pipe still sitting on the kitchen table from their last hit. Those kids just lost their father to cancer and if you send that sherriff to knock on their door they'll get ripped out of that house before the school bell rings today. Sure, that might be a good thing, but I am NOT going to be responsible for pushing that snowball down the hill.

Only in Mudhole could a puppy on the loose lead to DHS ripping some kids out of the newly discovered crack house. Film at eleven.