Babe Ruth Is Lost

It's no secret around these parts that I'm a die-hard Yankees fan. It's also not a secret that I love my two dogs a whole bunch.

So, I decided on March 8, 2008 to mix the combo of my favorite player from the Yankees and the newest member of my family:

meet Babe Ruth




The short long story of Babe Ruth is this: I was teaching in Rural-As-Rural-Can-Be, Virginia. I had finally convinced my parents back home that they should adopt a dog. But not just any dog. No no. They should adopt a bigger black dog. Why? Because they're the least likely to get adopted because they're often viewed as "scary", "harmful" and "aggressive."

I went to the Rural-As-Rural-Can-Be's animal shelter and lo and behold, there was ONE black dog. Fate? Perhaps.

The shelter people failed to tell me the dog was a wild one, though, never having permanent contact with humans before. Lovely.

I manage to get the dog, who my parents were going to name Sasha, in the car. He promptly goes #2. On my cloth seats. I get him home, get him on the leash, take him out of the car, and immediately the 825914 kids in my neighborhood rushed to see the new doggy. But, they scared Sasha and he run under my suv. Which was piping hot because I'd obviously just been driving around town.

This further startled Sasha and? He was gone. He was able to get out of the police issued leash I had him on (borrowed from a police officer friend) and peaced out.

The neighborhood kids and I looked for hours. And when I say hours? I mean he ran away at 3:30pm and we finally retreated to our homes at 10pm. With no Sasha.

Being the responsible adult and teacher that I am, I accidentally slept in the next morning because I was so drained from crying all night, trudging through brush four feet high, etc.,

I called the school and said I'd be 15 minutes late, but that I was on the road already. Since it was my first time being late in two years, the Vice Principal replied, "Okay, see you soon."

Back roads in rural areas? They have straight paths that turn into death-defying turns that turn into sharp angles. Seriously. They can be scary. But I knew them well, so I was flying along driving at around 45mph when something black caught my eye in the ditch on the side of the road.

Huh? Was that Sasha?

I quickly put Tang, (yes I named my suv, don't judge) in reverse and looked for the black "spot." I didn't see it.

I turned to my left and there was a black dog. Now, most people would take caution when approaching animals in the "wild." But for some reason, I took none.

I hopped out of the car, in the middle of the rural road that's in the middle of nowhere and kneeled to the ground so I was eye level with the dog. I said, "Hi doggy! Hi sweetie! Come here?" and I put my arms out.

That dog was in my arms faster than I could blink.

Initially, I thought he was a bear cub when he got closer. Why I didn't scream and run at that point I have no clue.

I put this black dog, another one, this dog was not Sasha in the car to take him home. He went #2 also. (why? why why why?)

I called out of work for the day, took bear cub home and washed/bathed/clipped his hair. He had spiders crawling on him, thorns in him, sticky bush thingys in his hair, and so on. In fact, I distinctly remember that I bathed him twice, once right after another, because the water coming off of him was literally black.

He ate two bowls of Romeo's food right away, drank water and off to the vet we went. They said he was so malnourished and emaciated that he surely would've died within a day or two. March 8, 2008, a doggy saved me. And I him.

My parents were going to take this dog then, but they saw how much Romeo and I had bonded with him. So, with us he stayed.

Ten days after finding Babe Ruth, he had gained 8 lbs and was bff's with Romeo.

The rest they say, is history.

Until yesterday.

Romeo and Babe Ruth were staying at my brothers place because he has a house and we have a condo. So, the dogs obviously have more room at his place to run around.

But, that dumb storm Sandy caused a neighbors tree to crash down on my brothers fence. Which gave Babe the brilliant idea to run off.

I got a frantic call from my brother yesterday afternoon saying, "Babe Ruth is lost."

I rushed M and I over to my brothers neighborhood. Windows down in 45* weather, we're calling out constantly to Babe Ruth.

Nothing.

Defeated, I went back to my brothers house. Holding back tears, we started scouring shelters in our area online. And sure enough, Babe had been picked up by the county and was in "animal jail."

I paid the fine, got my dog back, and never want to relive this again.

Babe and Romeo are home now with me, safe and sound. And they're never going outside without a leash on again.

















Happy Friday to us all.