Gizmo’s Story (revised) July 7, 2009

Gizmo’s Story

My family collects pets like some people collect pieces of art or even baseball cards.  Before my family left on our last family vacation, we were the proud owners of one Australian shepherd dog, two shih-tzu dogs, one 8 week-old part shih-tzu puppy, five cats, a tank of fish, and one frog.  One of our shih-tzu’s, Buddy, was missing at the time.  He had escaped our fenced in back yard about three weeks earlier and had never been found.  There was a huge thunderstorm the afternoon he escaped, and we thought maybe this scared and confused him and he couldn’t find his way home.

During our absence, our long-time friend, baby-sitter, and pet/house sitter, Shelley, was in charge of caring for our pets and home.  We love Shelley, but she has a tendency of freaking out over things when she is left responsible for our house.  She has a history of crazy things happening to her while baby/pet/house sitting for us.

It was no surprise to my husband and me that we had numerous messages on our phone the day we were returning back to port and finally had phone service again.  In fact, with no seriousness in mind, we both laughed and rolled our eyes before calling her back.  Little did we know that this was to be only the beginning of a crazy story for us.

Upon phoning home, Shelley told us she had found Buddy.  We had already accepted the fact that he was probably never coming home before we left for vacation.  We were surprised at Shelley’s news; but of course, there was more to the story.

Our neighbor Dianne had seen an ad in the newspaper that someone had found a lost shih-tzu and immediately thought of Buddy.  She called Shelley and told her she should call the number and see if it was our dog.  Being the good pet-sitter, Shelley did as she was told.  She called the number, visited the house, and claimed the lost dog as our Buddy-boy.  She took him home where he seemed very excited to see our other dogs and cats.

A couple of days later “Buddy” escaped again.  Once again a huge monsoon-like thunderstorm blew in and our “Buddy” was lost again.  Except this time he was found on our neighbor’s porch.  The little dog was covered in mud, shivering, and sick.  Shelley said that when she wrapped a towel around him to carry him home he was so fevered she could feel intense heat through the towel.

The next morning the little fellow was so sick.  He was vomiting, coughing, fevered, and had diarrhea.  The poor little fellow looked as if he was dying.  Our pet sitter was beside herself.  What should she do?  She consulted the neighbors’, her father, and finally, my father-in-law.  All those consulted agreed the dog was in horrid shape and needed to go to the vet.  The responsible pet sitter was on the phone calling every vet she could find in the phone book to see who could see “Buddy” the fastest, all the time worrying that my “thrifty” husband would kill her.

After talking to Shelley on the phone that Saturday morning, we were astounded.  Our poor Buddy!  He was in serious condition.  The vet was so concerned about his fever and dehydration (he wouldn’t eat or drink) that he insisted on keeping him for the weekend.  We were in shock, and we decided we were not telling the kids.  Shelley was scared the bill would be enormous.  The vet was keeping him all weekend on an IV until Monday. 

Finally, Monday morning arrived.  My husband drove to the vet to check out our poor Buddy-boy.  The little fellow was so weak.  He kept leaning against my husband; he could hardly stand up.  The vet discussed his condition, and fear there could be some liver damage because his enzyme levels were so high.  He showed my husband the x-rays they had taken and pointed out the imbedded dog identification chip. 

“Wait!” my husband interrupted.  “Did you say a chip?  I don’t think our dog has a chip.” 

“Maybe the store or breeder where you bought him put it in?”  The vet suggested.

“Can you get the owner’s info from the chip?” 

“Yes, just give us a minute.”

While the vet’s office looked into getting the contact information for the chip, my husband hurriedly called me.  “Beth, does Buddy have a chip?”

“What? No of course he doesn’t have a chip,” I answered. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes I’m sure,” I said. “Why?” 

“This dog has a chip,” he explained. “They showed it to me on the x-ray.” 

Five hundred dollars later my husband brought home a sick dog that wasn’t ours.  He wasn’t our Buddy-boy.  He did look an awful lot like Buddy but he wasn’t our Buddy.  The info from the chip company gave us his name, his owner’s name, and a few contact numbers (none of which worked).  We Googled the owner’s name, sent her an email message. When she responded we told her the story, but we never heard from her again.  I guess she didn’t want her dog back.

Secretly, I am glad Gizmo’s owner didn’t claim him.  I like Gizmo.  He is such a well behaved dog, and he is spoiled too.  He is healthy now, no permanent damages.  We love him and love having him as a member of our family.  We never did find Buddy, but Gizmo has become good company for Daisy now that her puppy is living with his new family.  We now own one less puppy, but now we are looking for homes for the three kittens our female cat gave birth to while we were away.  Does anyone want an adorable kitten?

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