The Adventures of Bob the Dog – Bad Dogs Anonymous

Time to take a breather, so I'm taking a blogger break for a while. I notice that other bloggers, columnists, and cartoonists pull up things from their archives, so that's what I'm going to do.

It took only three days before Bad Dogs Anonymous knew that Bob was just too much dog for them and threw in the towel. They recommended their residence program, Incorrigible Dogs Anonymous, or IDA, as it is known locally.

The following Monday, Bob and I met with the counselors at IDA, who seemed a rather nervous lot. They kept looking at the transcript of Bob’s time in plain old BDA, and kept muttering things like, “You know that success depends entirely on the canine.” And “Not all dogs are meant to be domestic pets” and “You do know that our fees are payable regardless of the outcome of the program, don’t you?”

When I left, I looked back at Bob and he was looking at me with his puppy dog eyes. I might have been more sympathetic if I had not just read in the Statesman that police had recovered a taxi in Brown County, missing from Austin since a taxi-driver had been car-jacked after being called to a fake address on Cameron Road a week ago. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you Bob?

I didn’t hear anything from the folks at IDA all week and I really thought that was a good sign – until I drove over there on Friday afternoon to take Bob home for week-end furlough and found the building locked and seemingly abandoned. I called the number but service had been disconnected, and when I called the folks at plain old BDA they put me on hold and never picked up the phone again.

I was a little wary of the whole situation, but Bob did not show up next door and Monday I got a fancy certificate in the mail that said Bob the Dog had completed all aspects of his rehab in exemplary order and that there absolutely was no need for further treatment. I was dubious, but frankly, I could live without Bob and his escapades. I just had to keep telling myself: This was not my dog! This was NOT my dog!

So actually I was pretty happy when I got a text message from Bob Monday night. It said simply, “FOUND OUT I CAN YODEL. ME & MATES HEADED FOR NASHVILLE.”

I just wondered who paid for the cell phone. Silly me.


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