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My partner and I brought home a puppy right after our honeymoon. Although she wasn’t a tiny baby, she was just about a year old. Bella was the perfect addition for a young couple eager to care for something. She could perform tricks, was house-trained, and was undeniably adorable. While we weren’t sure of her breed, she felt just right for us.
Bella and I got along well, but she was clearly my partner’s dog. She adored him from the start, and when he was around, I often felt invisible. This was fine by me; we had a mutual agreement. Bella would chase every bug that dared to enter our home, and I would give her head scratches and let her curl up at the foot of our bed. She lived with us for many happy years, eventually becoming a beloved companion to our two little girls. Three years ago, on a sunny December day, we had to say farewell and gently bury her beneath her favorite tree, nestled under the bird feeder where she loved to spend her time.
When I reminisce about Bella, I sometimes unintentionally portray her as a calm and obedient dog, but don’t let my nostalgia deceive you. Bella could be completely wild when the mood struck her, and during her youthful days, that was about 76 percent of the time. She was a handful.
When my eldest daughter was just eighteen months old, my partner left for military training for eight months. My baby and I temporarily moved in with my best friend’s family while we awaited his return. Keep in mind that Bella’s one true person was away, and in her eyes, I was not a suitable replacement. Those eight months became Bella’s rumspringa. All rules vanished until my partner came home; she thought she was in charge, and she was loving every minute of it.
One beautiful summer evening, I decided to take Bella for a drive to my parents’ house as a special treat. She loved car rides, and I adored my goofy pup, despite her antics. What could possibly go wrong?
When it was time to leave, I appeared to be the epitome of a young mother who had everything under control. Adorable baby on my hip, perfectly stocked diaper bag over my shoulder, and my loyal dog trotting beside me. Leash? Who needs one? We were walking straight to the car, and Bella would hop right into the passenger seat as she always did. I was a confident woman who had everything figured out. I hummed, “I am strong. I am invincible. I am woman.”
I was ready. Or so I thought.
The moment I opened the car door, my hyper dog spotted a neighbor walking his dogs way down the road and decided it was the perfect time to ignore all her training and sprint towards him, barking uncontrollably. He was walking a massive black pit bull and a fluffy little cocker spaniel. For a moment, my heart raced; the cocker might be manageable, but that giant pit bull could easily overpower Bella.
Instead of reacting, both the big dog and the cocker simply sat at their owner’s feet, staring at my crazy dog as if she had three heads. That’s what well-trained dogs do, I suppose. Bella, on the other hand, was anything but well-trained.
I knew I had to chase after my runaway dog, but remember, I was holding my baby. So, like any responsible mom would do, I hastily plopped her into the car seat without buckling her and took off after Bella. My daughter stood up and stared out the window, watching her not-so-athletic mama, who hadn’t run since high school gym class, dash down the street in rubber flip-flops.
Wearing a long t-shirt over leggings, which seemed like acceptable running attire, I quickly realized these particular leggings were from my pregnancy days, and the elastic had seen better times. Just a few steps into my dog-retrieval mission, my pants started to slip, dragging down and taking my underwear with them.
So, let’s recap: A short-legged, brindle-colored mutt is barking like crazy, charging toward a bewildered neighbor just trying to walk his perfect dogs. Meanwhile, I’m clumsily running behind, holding my pants up with one hand, diaper bag still on my shoulder, waving my free hand and yelling, “She’s friendly! She got away from me! I’m so sorry! Bella! Come back! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!!!”
As if this wasn’t chaotic enough, my partner decides to call me from his dorm. My diaper bag blared his personalized ringtone at full volume, and I immediately regretted my choice of the world’s most ridiculous ringtone: a reggae jingle singing, “It’s your husband, ooh yeah. Yes, your husband is trying to get through.”
But there was a tiny silver lining. After months of calls and FaceTime chats accompanied by that ridiculous noise, Bella associated that tune with the one person she felt she needed to obey—my partner. After what felt like an eternity of chasing her, she stopped in her tracks, turned around, and trotted back to the car, hopping in as if nothing had happened.
The neighbor, still a few houses down, slowly walked his well-behaved dogs back, clearly trying to avoid my wild animal. I quickly buckled my daughter, jumped into the car, and thought about speeding away to dodge the upset neighbor. That’s when I realized I had left my car keys inside.
So much for being a woman with it all together. My earlier confidence was clearly misplaced. I trudged back into the house in a long, sad walk of shame, only to reemerge just in time to bump into the neighbor. I mumbled another apology and returned my partner’s call to tell him that his once-faithful dog had turned into a total menace.
And to top it all off? This chaos unfolded on August 26th—National Dog Day. Bella may not have been perfect, but boy, did that mutt know how to celebrate.
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Summary
This amusing tale recounts a wild evening where a dog named Bella embarrasses her owner while she attempts to chase after her. As chaos ensues with her pants falling down, Bella’s antics lead to an unforgettable and humorous encounter with a neighbor. The story highlights the unexpected challenges of being a pet owner, especially when the dog decides to go rogue.
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