I thought we’d add a little action to our series by talking while we walk to school.
We’re sorry to say that we’ve received no Skippy sightings now in almost a week. We have left the trap outside the house and replace the food every night. I can’t run SkippyCam because of technical issues, but there’d be very little to see anyway.
We have contacted the county dog warden, but he says there’s little he can do either. He promised to patrol the area, but until someone corners Skippy or he plum tuckers out or the unspeakable happens, we might not see him again. He did urge us, however, not to give up.
Just to remind everyone, there is a standing $70 reward for the return of Skippy. We hope he comes back to us so that we can take care of him for a little while on his way to find a permanent home, but he’s one dog that just does not want to be caught.
Today, a volunteer from the animal rescue arrived with a live trap that will hopefully capture Skippy. We had no sightings of him so far today, but something came into the garage last night and ate the food and drank the water we set out for him. Hopefully, it was him. We have no shortage of wild critters around here. The volunteer advised us to leave food outside of the trap tonight, so he’ll get used to seeing the cage. Then, tomorrow night, put the food inside the cage and hope for the best.
At least we know that Skippy is well fed and hydrated, and we can only assume that he’s hunkered down somewhere close by the house. We hope that he’s become familiar enough with the area that he’ll return again tonight. Imagine our frustration upon realizing that all that effort searching all over town for this dog didn’t matter at all. He came back on his own anyway! I’m sorry to admit that I’m already sick of this stupid dog. We won’t be adopting him.
Last night, a couple of our neighbors did their best to lure Skippy close enough in order to grab his collar. Sarah and Aly literally lay on the ground for over a half hour with food in their hand to pique the dog’s curiosity. They sure piqued anyone walking or driving by who saw this spectacle.
On that note, I also want to thank everyone in our little town for helping out. We have some great neighbors who fanned out all over the area in search of a dog no bigger than a large cat. They make us feel pretty lucky to live here. I have to say that the response to our notices on Facebook, our flyers, and the general outreach has been tremendous. When I approach total strangers if they’ve seen a little black dog, more often than not they ask me if it’s the dog they heard about on the internet.
Our mayor, Ed Foley has even drummed up a campaign to raise money for an award for Skippy’s safe return. So far, there’s $70 in the (forgive me) kitty.
I plan to set up a webcam in the garage by the trap that will hopefully capture at least an image of Skippy. I hope the trap captures the dog, but who knows? We live among plenty of wildlife only a few miles north of the Philadelphia city line. I will have that webcam embedded in this blog.
We spent the better part of yesterday looking for Skippy, our first foster dog. He bolted out of the house on Sunday morning after he discovered an open door.
To help find him, I’ve put together a map plotting where people have seen him. If you have any information or if you see Skippy, call us at 215-370-7082. Do not try to catch him. He’s very skittish and will not approach people.
View Skippy’s Path in a larger map
This week, we bring in our special guest Cecelia who tells us all about a very eventful weekend.
Louise and Randy debut “Patio Time with Louise and Randy Garbin”
Cecelia has finally earned her chance to get a dog, and so we’re going to start with a foster dog. For us, this is a trial run. We definitely want to help take care of a dog that will need a home, but we also want to see if Cecelia is responsible enough to take care of it (mostly) on her own. Her mother and I have no desire to take care of another pet, so she has to prove herself worthy.
Let’s hope she gets good enough for a scholarship.
She as a propensity for carving out her own spaces in our tiny house. She’s made whole worlds inside her closets; she’s built a library under a table; she’s architected sprawling structures from chairs, umbrellas, and blankets; and now she’s created her own home theater.
I wonder which one of her proclivities will lead to a career. My daughter the architect has a nice ring to it, though I continue to harbor the hope that she’ll become baseball’s first woman general manager.
We met today with Cecelia’s teacher for the second of the twice-yearly parent-teacher’s conference. I’m happy to report that we have nothing bad to report. Without resorting to annoying parental bragging, Cecelia’s academic performance review gave us nothing to worry about. At least that’s one thing that won’t keep us up at night.
As we did last year, we discussed her behavior in class. Last year, her teacher described Cecelia as her “buddy,” who always helped out in class and was, by most measures, a little angel. At this point, I had to stop her and ask, “Are you talking about our Cecelia?”
Her teacher and others since have assured us that kids tend to act out more around their own parents. I rack my brain trying to remember if I did the same at that age to no avail. I must consider myself lucky if indeed she acts more civilized around others, but once in a while, I wish she’d at least pretend she didn’t know us.
At today’s conference, no behavioral issues came up so I had to ask. Again, no problems there. Yes, I know we should be grateful, but almost daily Cecelia and I lock horns over something. If only we could have a stretch of a few days where everyone just got along.
A few years ago, I asked a co-worker who had older daughters, “At what point can you go out and do something with your girl that doesn’t involve a lot of yelling and screaming?”
He thought about it for a while, and said, “Twelve years old.”
Ugh. Four more years.
But then, the teen years set in…