two truths and a lie (itty bitty thoughts)
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Today we get to play a game. Normally in “Two Truths and a Lie”, someone tells you three things about themselves—two things that are true and one thing that isn’t—and you have to guess which thing isn’t true. In my version, I’m going to tell you the story of what’s been happening at our house the last few days. You figure out what section has the untrue parts.
Note: all sections have truth. One section also contains some big fat lies.
A few days ago, my son went on a walk and met a dog
It’s not uncommon to meet dogs when you’re out walking in farm country. They come out to greet you and then go back to their house. But this one didn’t go back to its house. It followed my son a couple miles until it arrived at our house.
The first thing I noticed as I stood grilling burgers was that a large dog was bouncing around behind my son, coming in our driveway.
The second thing I noticed was the dog’s right front paw was crooked and dangling. The dog was effectively bouncing around behind my son on three legs. Upon further inspection, it was clear the dog was a girl and she hadn’t been using that leg for a long time.
The third thing I noticed was that both the dog and my son were wet.
Me: What happened?
Son: While she was following me, she tried to get a drink from the ditch by a culvert and she fell in. I pulled her out. You know, because her leg doesn’t work.
No wonder she followed him home.
We made her a soft squishy bed in our garage, gave her food and water, but she chose to spend that first night on our front step.
Inside the house, our other three dogs—all rescues themselves—were freaking out. One of them is pretty particular and can’t handle the change in your breathing, let alone the fact there is a new dog somewhere on the property. And since I didn’t want to break up any potential dog fights (especially with a poor doggo on three legs) we kept our dogs separated from her. When our dogs went out, stray doggo got locked in the garage. When our dogs went back in, stray doggo came out of the garage.
Stray doggo was a very, very nice dog. Very friendly, liked to hobble around and help with chores. Stray doggo also liked belly rubs. She was a good girl who laid in the garage and hung out with us while we insulated some new stray cat houses (oh the freaking irony).
The second night it rained and then got c-o-l-d. She slept on her squishy bed in the garage, and in the morning laid in the yard to soak up the sun.
But I knew it wasn’t in the cards for us to keep her—for a lot of reasons. She needed to find her owner or (more likely) somewhere else to go.
I knew that I could find her owner without the use of social media. So, instead of swallowing my pride and biting the bullet and reactivating my Facebook account, I went door-to-door showing people a picture of the dog and asking if it was theirs and did they know the owner. At many of the houses I stopped at, the people said they’d seen that dog running for quite a while but didn’t know who the owner was.
After going to 249 houses, I met the sweetest woman who was not the owner, but volunteered with a local(ish) rescue. We discussed the dog’s obvious injuries and formulated our own theories as to what had happened and why the dog was wandering. She offered to take the dog, continue to look for the dog’s owner, and get the dog the medical help it needed (by way of the rescue she volunteered for).
So, brilliant farmish readers: which part of the story—1, 2 or 3—has the bits that aren’t true?
Life is such a weird, unpredictable ride.
— Amy Dingmann, 10/16/20