Remember Popich

Years ago I had a beautiful little dog named Popich. I miss him. Almost every day.

Last week  I watched a little puppy run into the street and nearly get run over. I ran into the street and held him. Sobbing and relieved that he wasn’t crushed by the car in front of me. I call the number on his tag. Left a message.

He is so happy to see me, this dog. I spent about 10 minutes with him and thought to myself, he isn’t in a happy home. I don’t know why I felt this – I just KNEW it.  I thought for a second about keeping him.  NO, that wouldn’t be right call the number.

He sits next to me in the car as I rush to pick up my son. I’m trying to figure out how to make sure Sebastian knows this is NOT a present for him and his dog. He wants one so badly.

I get the call and the address to take Socks home. I think to myself, the guy on the phone doesn’t seem very relieved. I rush over there.  Wait to pick up Sebastian until after.  This of course will make me late picking him up.  I had to make a quick decision.. I rush over.

I try to hand the dog its person , “Oh, we don’t like to hold him, just put him down.”

No “thank you” – no relief …. No joy that their dog is okay. No concern.  (Yes, I am unfairly judging people right now, I know.  There is likely an explanation.)

The dog followed me to the gate and tried to come home with me. I wanted SO BADLY to just keep him.

I don’t know if they know what they have.

Most of us don’t always admire what we have. We have things that are precious and we let things blur.

Now will never come again.

I read that somewhere.

This moment as I type these words is so precious. I don’t always  savor it.

I savored Popich when I had him and in a very sad instant I lost him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about that little dog, Socks.

I rang their door bell yesterday.  An impulsive act as I drove by to ask them if I could have the dog.

They didn’t answer.

I could hear him in a cage outside their house, crying.  The fence isn’t THAT high….. how many years would I get for stealing that dog?  I am pretty sure I can pull a Chris Brooks on that fence….

Maybe savoring a moment and stealing do not mean the same thing.   I’ll wait.  Somehow I have a feeling that is going to be our dog.  I’ll change his name from Socks to “Inflating Bulb”  (that is the thing on  blood pressure equipment that gets held and squeezed a lot- get it?)

Don’t ignore anyone you care about today.  Stop reading my stupid blog and go hug them.  ;)  I’m stopping here so I can go wake up my son.  “Mom, you are squeezing me too tight.. ,” will likely be his response.  He isn’t a morning person.

3 Replies to “Remember Popich”

  1. Late last Spring and on our way to a beautiful lake spot where we’d like to relax, my friend and I were driving on a local street when the garbage truck in front of us swerved suddenly and regained control. It was trying to avoid a small white cat blindly crossing the street. The cat dodged too late and recoiled on the street, whimpering in pain, and the truck, without the knowledge of what it did to the cat, drove off. My friend quickly realized what happened and pulled over, shocked and in tears by what just happened. I couldn’t believe what had happened either; we were both in utter shock.

    She called the police and let them know that a cat had been run over, but before they could arrive at the scene, the pet owners rushed out to the middle of the street to find out what had happened. My friend explained chronologically with tears in her eyes and with an unstable voice, and to this they slowly picked up the cat and went into their house, thanking us for helping out.

    We stayed a while on the side of the road, and we comforted each other by the shock that left us feeling sour. Was a “thank you” all that was needed? Did the pet owners even believe her story?

    Sometimes things turn around on you. When you feel like you’ve done a good deed, it can seem to other people that you were responsible for the death of a pet. It hurts, and people cry, and that’s okay. But it doesn’t matter in the end. What matter is that you did a good thing, and that’s okay too.

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