This is super awkward, Nature.

Somehow, we have become "the dog people" in our neighborhood.

We live in the middle of nowhere, and not only do some of our (ahem) lovely neighbors let their dogs roam around freely with zero supervision, somehow our house and the surrounding 1/4-mile area has become the numero-uno dumping ground for unwanted dogs as well. And since we have dogs and I volunteer at the local dog shelter (or, at least, I did before Bubba got sick), all the neighbors call me.

"Uh, Shannon? There's this white dog in our yard? And he's chasing our cats. Can you come over?"

And...do what? They never really say. Chase the dog off? Assume it's friendly and try to coax it into my car and drive it to the shelter (which is perpetually over-booked)? Let it live in my basement? They don't care. All they want is the dog OFF their property, and they've elected me to deal with it.

This weekend, I got the call. "Um, Shannon? Could you -- and maybe T -- come up here? There's these two dogs here and...well, could you just come over?"

Sigh.

We trudged up the hill that separates our two houses. Our neighbor, her husband and their five-year-old son were standing in their driveway, looking across the road at two dogs in our other neighbor's yard.

The dogs were standing close together, not really moving. Something seemed...odd.

"Shannon, those dogs are hurting each other!" five-year-old C called to me as we walked up the hill. "Mom said they were playing, but they got stuck."

Oh. Oh, no.

Yep. The dogs were "playing" in that very special adult-dog way, and had gotten stuck together. Have you ever seen this happen? I'd only seen it once before, when our golden retrievers Heidi and Nugget got amorous one summer, and my brother and I got a firsthand lesson in "Why Saying 'No' Can Really Be Way Less Painful in the Long Run."

T took one look, turned around and headed back down the hill, tossing "Not it" over his shoulder.

Neighbor and her husband looked at me expectantly.

C continued staring across the road at the poor, humiliated dogs.

The dogs tried desperately not to make eye contact with any of us.

And I just stood there, torn between covering C's eyes and guiding him back up the driveway (WHY was he out there again?) and just making a break for it like cowardly (aka: smart) T.

Wait, are they expecting ME to do something about this?

Pull them apart? Push them...back together? Perform some sort of doggie relationship counseling so they can let go of their built-up resentment and get back to the lovin'?

Here's what ended up happening: I walked tentatively across the street toward the dogs (with absolutely ZERO plan in mind), saying "It's OK, it's OK" in the dogs' general direction for lack of anything better to say or do. Neighbor and husband got bored and went back inside, leaving C standing in the yard staring at us like a real-life National Geographic special.

After about five minutes, the male dog did some kind of special move, and with a heart-wrenching yelp from the female (seriously: OW OW OW), they broke apart and immediately ran off in opposite directions. (I mean, wouldn't you?)



Relieved, I headed back to my house.

Oh, dammit.

"Shannon?" C was jogging behind me, on my heels. "Why were those dogs stuck together? How do they play? What makes them do that? Huh?"

Thanks, Nature. Thanks a crapload.