I got a call from Emily that she had again rescued Sparky from an attack by the Neighbor's dog. Apparently the dogs had torn another slat out of their fence and were once again trying to claim jump our back-yard. She had let him out not knowing this and he got attacked by the neighbor's dog. A similar scenario played out several weeks ago, however I was the one that let him out and rescued him.
Emily called and was a little rattled. I asked if he was OK and she said he was acting like he did last time—hiding in his kennel, ignoring commands to move to the other side of the couch when he was sitting where you wanted to sit—the usual cranky dog syndrome we see from time to time. I told her that I would go and talk to the neighbors when I got home.
After work I grabbed the DVD that needed to be returned to the rental store. (Seriously I'm getting to the Costume thing) And then went to talk to the Neighbor. Since the last time I had spoken with this neighbor, she has gotten married. Their Son answered the Door, I asked if his parents were home and he said, "Just my step-dad." —Oh great, was my thought; not only have I just become the really annoying neighbor that comes over to complain, I get to meet a new person to which I live—literally next door—and have never spoken.
I let him know that the Fence was down, and that his Dog had attacked mine.
He asked, "Which dog, the black one?"
Is your dog hurt?
No, just his feelings.
He explained that he was at his wits end because the Dog(s) keep attacking the Fence. He said he would go and repair it.
I then Drove to the Rental Store and returned the Movie.
I came home, we had dinner and got Moira to bed.
We sat down for some television and I noticed the Gash in Sparky's side.
He'd been hurt. It was at least an inch deep, but not straight in.
I took Sparky with me over to the neighbors and let them know what I had just discovered under all his Fluffy Hair.
They felt bad and explained that the Dog wasn't really theirs to begin with, she has rented a room to several different people in the time that they have lived there and the Dog belonged to one of them, and that he had just abandoned her when he moved out.
She stated that they would pay the Vet Bill.
They explained that they had been wondering what to do with the dog and that they conversed about what to do with it. She had apparently been abused—did I mention this dog only has 3 legs?—and that they thought she would die soon; but in light of the days occurrence they would be getting rid of it.
I explained my concern about my Daughter playing in our back yard, and he stated that there was no way that the dog would get through the Bricks, Wheelbarrow, and Propane tank that now covered the hole in the fence until he could get it repaired properly. I thanked them and then headed home to figure out the Vet situation; it was getting late and we don't have a regular vet [Emily informed me, after reading this, that we do—in fact—have a regular Vet that Sparky has been going to since he was a pup; eh—what do I know, I've taken him in for shots twice since we've been married].
I ended up walking over to the Neighbor's one more time, because I wanted to know if the Dog had had its shots—I didn't know if it was important, but wanted to know in case the Vet asked. She said, "I think so, it would have been last year between July and September. I remember because he had been borrowing that car." She then assured me that the Dog would be gone tomorrow.
I remembered that there is a PetsMart just down the road and called them. It was now past hours but the message gave the numbers of two clinics that are open for late night emergencies. I called and scheduled an appointment.
I learned that Dog skin is more sensitive to Hydrogen Peroxide than our own and that it should be watered down before use on a dog. I learned that Dog Skin does not heal like ours and if not taken care of will turn Necrotic (click cautiously, there are graphic images).
I spent roughly two hours at the Veterinary Clinic, and took a somewhat woozy, doped-up, dog home.
Now, the costume part. —I know you've all been waiting.