Hearing high-pitched girly sounds coming from outside, I went to sneak a peak out the window. Oh, what I saw!
Tromping through the newly laid snow just on the other side of our fence was an old woman! She was in a blue wool robe, some white slippers, and a floral night gown that was peeking at the robe's hem. Her visage was frantic!
Her dirty blonde hair spiked and frizzed in all directions!
It was the craziest thing I ever saw -- some one feeling free to anxiously swing my Christmas lights, MINE. The light strand had been draped along that fence for Christmas. She was coaxing and pleading. Her eyes were glaring off to the right.
I looked right. And I giggled.
There was a young, sleek black dog happily sniffing the earth where the fence meets the snowy ground. His tail was jauntily flicking back and forth. He was the happiest little thing. I could imagine him saying, "WhatdoI smell? WhatdaI smell? Oh, where's it go? Where's it go?" Never ya mind the old woman squeaking in an appealing tone. Never mind her fears of the nearby highway and potential death and destruction. Surely he was thinking, "Let's run this way and find what makes that wonderful scent!" Off he went!
Sterling, the dog, went right around the old woman headlong into the neighbor's yard. GONE.
Putting on a coat, donning gloves, and grabbing a tin can of cat food, I felt sorry for her and decided to help.
Whoa! There was another one!
Another dirty blonde with shorter frizzier hair. She was little, skinny, with the most wizened skin I'd ever seen. And she was chasing another one!
It was a little bouncing excited orange rag mop, Rosie, the Pomeranian! Just like the sleek black dog it was thrilled to be loose, freedom! It was darting here and there and everywhere checking the ground as it scurried.
This old woman was wearing an old-fashioned lounge quilted deep-red robe; well worn. Her slacks were billowing at the cuffs where her black slippers were crunching the snow, both picking up bits of mud.
What a sight!
One screamed, "Rosie! Come here!" The other, "Sterling, Stop!"
Bending down, I popped the top of the cat food. Success! Curious Sterling came. The blue robed woman came. Cinching her belt a little tighter she grabbed the black dog and started lumbering off, none too happy.
Rag mop Rosie scampered into the open garage. What luck! I told lounge robed lady, "Stand right here, don't move. Block the exit." Then I quickly jabbed the button on the electric garage door opener. Trapped; Rosie was cornered.
The lady picked up her dog, I pushed the button again for up, and she stepped out and yelled a 100 feet away to the other lady, "Get him home. Get him home right now!"
Sterling was still wagging his tail, and shifting his head from left to right in the crook of her arm.
Rosie, having had a wonderful excursion, a taste of the great outdoors, and full of delight, was wiggling every muscle and inch of her body, struggling against someone she knew could be inept. The four of them trooped home.
It was an absurd sight! And the word-unrecognizable high-pitched girly sounds of reprimands never ceased. It was fun entertainment with my front yard as the stage. This time I didn't need to sneak a peak, I had a role in a panoramic view.
Now, where's my scaredy cats?
NOTE: This was a true story. To make it even funnier, it happened on Epiphany!
