| Little Red Girl from Miami - Looooong
Sat, 30 Oct 1999 20:26:17 EDT - from Pat
Michael was bribed with a gift to accompany to the nether regions of Dade
County. Just typing that word makes me shiver. I figured that if we left at
11 a.m. we would be right there at high noon. It is funny how easily we are
lulled into that false sense of security that we are completely capable of
venturing into a county other than our own.
With directions and kennel numbers and descriptions we set off for that other
county. Two women who had no fear and were on a mission from IMPS (feel
free to play secret agent music).
We were driving along I-95 and were about 5 miles into that other county when
a sign appeared...three right lanes closed from 125th to 130th. This had me
very concerned because there are only three lanes to begin with. Suddenly
there was a line of cars ahead of us and no one was moving. We did this not
moving thing for almost another 5 miles. It only took us 49 minutes to go
those five miles. And I kept muttering to myself and then out loud, 'damnit
I had better see some road crews and construction out here or I am going to
get really ticked off'. Well, I didn't see any road crews or work going on
for several miles. Up on the horizon I saw a big truck thingie and it was
digging holes into the interstate. There was one man and a truck...that does
not constitute a road crew in my book. We eventually passed over a gazillion
orange road cones and were able to move at a much more enlightening speed.
Of course neither of us knows if the Palmetto is 836 or 826 because God
forbid, the roads and the names would be marked. I saw a Miami Dade County
cop so I figured....'gee, he works here, he must know where animal control
is' so I followed him into a Miami Subs. We stopped beside his parked cruiser
and said in our most lost Broward County voices, "Excuse me sir, we're lost"
to which he replied, "You're at a Miami Subs". OK, chalk one up for civil
servants. After we showed him the address and identified what we were
looking for, and I am not making this up, he told us...'hmmmmm, I don't think
I know where that is.' After five minutes and some very interesting
directions which involved the easy route, we were on our way. He had no
clue. We are now in a very interesting part of Miami....there are many
churches and they all have names unlike any I have ever seen....there was
Sister Clara Mohammed's church and school for girls, there was a church
called the "Upon this Rock Divine Message Redeemer (which I thought read
Massage center but Michael told me it had to be message - I think she was
wrong) and there were several others too odd to even remember right now. We
eventually found a gas station interspersed amongst the churches and a man in
a Bell South hard hat. We figured the phone guy had to know where we were
going. He sort of did and what he said did not make us feel any better. He
told us that we had to drive 50 blocks north and then 72 blocks west. We did
that....we were watching the street numbers go in the right direction and we
were getting very excited when we got to 50th. The next street was 8th. We
were not amused. We went a few more blocks and those numbers just kept
getting smaller. We made a U-turn and went back the other way. Michael
swore she saw a Shell station right up the road. Well, she was wrong. She
saw a Shell station all right, but it was back there about 30 blocks ago.
The nice woman told us that we had been going in the right direction the
first time. We discussed the sudden drop in number and she said "Yeah, isn't
that funny how it does that?" No, it is not funny how it does that but were
two insane women on a mission. Back we went again. This time I saw a Royal
Castle and I wanted to go in there so badly but we were two chicken women on
a mission. OK, now we are passing the low numbers and they are going back up
again...it does not matter that they do not follow the same sequence that
most of us learned in school as small children...they are going up and we are
seeing 70th and we are happy. The address is 7401 NW 74 Street. We get to
74th and turn left because there is no place to turn right. Wrong turn. We
should have just figured out that you could kind of squeeze into this little
side street and the only sign identifying the place was AFTER you had passed
it and were headed onto another freeway. We waved good bye sadly and
prepared for another attempt.
Oh My God! We are in the parking lot. We approached this smiling man in a
uniform with a gun (hmmmm) and he directed us to Julian in Lost and Found.
Now we are cooking....just follow the little blue pawprints and they will
take you back to Julian. We waited and watched Julian as he spoke on the
phone. I excitedly handed him the paperwork and he punched some buttons on
the computer and then he said "the red female's time was up yesterday"
NOOOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOOO NOOOOOOO we have a hold on her and I just drove
this godforsaken county for 2.5 hours and you had better have this dog or I am
going to, I am going to, I am going to be really not happy. Julian took me
to the counter and he flipped open the book and said "See, October 23rd, her
time was up on October 28th." NOOOOOOOOOOO. Look, somebody called on her
and put a hold and said I would be coming today and I ..... Oh look , he
said, there was a hold on her, but you had until yesterday. NOOOOOOOOOO.
Then I taught him about the calendar system....first there is the 28th and it
is followed by the 29th and magically it turns into the 30th which is today
and it says right there, 30th.... oh, so he gave me the kennel number and I
went back to look at her. She was not like the red pin I had last week, she
was big like Harley and she had these dark hairs mixed in with her red coat
and she had these amber eyes and she gave kisses. I then went to check on
the b/t but he was a HUGE puppy....probably a rottie mix.
OK, so now I go wait in the line from hell. My turn My turn My turn. Oooops
bad news, you have to come back tomorrow because she was not made a
pre-surgery. Come back tomorrow. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. OK, I now get into
another line, which is the exact same line that I was just in, except that I
was in the front 30 seconds earlier and I am told to pay my money and come
back tomorrow. They will make her the first surgical patient and I can get
her by 1 p.m. Now I have a card that says this. I get back to the front of
the same damn line and the woman at the counter says "You can't make her the
first one for surgery, there is no guarantee that she will even be done
tomorrow". Because there are several men in uniforms with sidearms and this
being Miami, I know there are several customers with handguns, I resist the
urge to demonstrate my ability to leap across a 4 foot high counter like
Magnum PI. Suddenly I look down at the card that is clearly marked "Do Not
Take This Card" that I took, and it is marked SPAYED. She doesn't need
surgery...I can take her home today. Yippee. They ask if I want her heart
worm tested. Duh? OK, it takes 15 minutes, come back in 30 minutes. Do I
have to get back in this line? Oh No, just come up to the counter and I will
tell you if she is ready. 30 minutes later I am back inside and guess
what....she is not there. She is now handling licenses and she cannot help
me. I am back in line and suddenly I am at the front of the line....but
there is no one to wait on me. After another 30 minutes Julian comes to my
rescue and says I can have the dog. THEN GIVE HER TO ME DAMNIT I say in my
most delicate voice. OOOOPs, they didn't put in the microchip.
Arghhhhhhhhhhhhh. We left there at 3:30 with a dog. I tried to get a box of
HeartGuard but they were all out of the small size. Good price only $10.25.
We made it home in under 59 minutes and introduced her to the household
members who have banded together and said get this thing outta here.
I have been calling her Medley because that is the town she came from...she
is about 4 years old and appears to have had a litter of pups. She has some
wicked nails but I am not up to this adventure tonight without benefit of
drugs and chocolate.
Lonnie is making arrangements to get her outta here because Phil comes home
Monday and if returns to me with another dog in the house, I will be seeking
Lonnie's assistance in the placement of a large very out of standard
red....me.
The good news is that Julian said all that we have to do is talk to the
manager (big fat joke) and get a rescue contract with them and from then on
all we have to do is go in and pick up the dog, no charge and fax back proof
of spay/neuter within 30 days. The bad news is that we need a Miami
volunteer or at least one in Broward who is not so Dade County impaired.
Pat and the crew
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