When Doing the Right Thing Leaves you Feeling Terrible

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We saw the flash of a brindle dog shooting across the street and down the park path. Christian and I were driving home from Target, juuuuust about to turn into our driveway.

It made me happy how happy the dog looked to be full-out running and free. I laughed and enjoyed. Christian is the grownup and asked if we should go get it.



“Yeah. Let’s go!”

We both had visions of bringing the dog home to play with Ida for a while until the owner came to collect it.

As we drove closer, we noticed a woman on her phone, her teeny dog on leash. When I got out of the car, a couple had grabbed the dog, but gladly let us deal with it as woman and I reached them simultaneously. It turned out woman knew the dog and was calling its owner.

“Bettina, I have Arnold here at the park. Someone is here with her car and said she’d drop him off at your house.” It’s true, I had said that.

Arnold was old. He was big, and a little grimy to the touch. He had ridiculously awful breath. Sweet Arnold. Sorry, buddy. Your free minute expired.

Woman gave me the address, and I held her wee dog while she grabbed Arnold to get him into the car, then he bolted toward it, then she skid awkwardly and… pulled muscle. There was a panicky moment where I wanted to drive away screaming, “FEEL BETTER SOON!”, but we stayed to make sure she was okay, offered her a ride, etc.

She hobbled off, and we were left to chauffeur Arnold.

Farmer had escaped approximately 13 thousand times during her career as our pooch, and every time we got her back, including the time she was arrested, we were beyond relieved and thankful to her rescuer.

When we pulled up to Arnold’s house, Christian had to go ring the doorbell, and was met by a flat, “hi”.

“We’ve got Arnold in the car.”

She padded out, grabbed Arnold, padded back in, muttered “thanks”, and was gone, leaving us feeling like idiots for expecting some human connection. We don’t get much of it as introverts, so when it happens, we want it to be good.

Upon finally pulling into our driveway, following a few minutes of silent reflection, we agreed how much the whole experience sucked.

“That sucked.” I said

“Yeah, I could have been balls-deep in the internet by now.”

And then we walked in to see this face, and 2.5 lbs of flour covering our kitchen floor.


Instagram shaming of the bad little dog who ate half a bag of flour today while we were out.

A photo posted by Jeanette Nyberg (@jeanette_nyberg) on


  1. 08/29/2015 / 10:48 am

    God forbid she could be happy or act grateful.

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