Disclaimer: None of the dogs pictured here were involved in the “Meatball Madness,” but they’re cute so they’re included.
Backstory: I made meatballs and decided to deliver some to a friend whose father passed away. I’ve known this friend from the time our children were in a religious pre-school together but we’d never socialized outside of religious school.
Setting and Subject: Suburban home with dog tied up in front yard.
Dramatis personae: Me, Riley the dog, Teenage Daughter, Grandma
Action: Walking up the brick path to my friend’s house I noticed a cute, brown, medium-sized, beagle-mix dog straining at its leash and barking. Upon further inspection, I noticed that the dog’s leash is caught in the bushes.
I set the bag filled with meatballs and dinner ingredients down so I can untangle the dog’s leash. No sooner had I lifted the leash from the bushes, then the dog wiggled backwards and out of her harness! She bolted up the street and disappeared behind houses while I held the evidence, a chewed up harness.
I opened the meatball container, grabbed one and ran up the street calling, “Heeeere puppy! Want a yum yum?!” The dog was nowhere in sight so I sprinted back to the mourners’ house horrified and cussing, rang the doorbell, and explained to my friend’s teenage daughter that her dog escaped!
“Riley does that all the time!” said my friend’s teenage daughter.
Still clutching the meatball, I follow Teenage Daughter through backyards calling, “Riley, Riley!” We saw a family in their backyard, the mom cradling Riley like a baby. Riley saw Teenage Daughter and jumped out of the mom’s arms.
As we ran back to Teenage Daughter’s house, I stuttered and spluttered that I was VERY SORRY Riley wiggled out of her harness, that the harness was all chewed up, and that I even touched the leash at all!
Upon returning to the house of mourning, Riley was brought inside. Grandma showed up on the scene wondering what all the hullabaloo was about. Teenage Daughter escaped from the meatball madness by disappearing upstairs. Grandma scolded Riley and lamented the chewed-up harness. I asked where I can dispose of a smooshed meatball and wash my hands.
Grandma thanked me for the dinner ingredients, then informed me…
…that my friend doesn’t eat meat!
What’s your vote? I couldn’t decide if I should call this post “No Deed Goes Unpunished” or “Meatball Madness.”