Not Casting Stones

November 11, 2008 at 3:47 am 1 comment

From the Keene Sentinel:

PRYOR, Okla. — A dog waiting in a car while at a car wash slipped the vehicle into gear and drove in a loop before the car came to a stop. Pryor police officer Brent Crittenden said the dog’s owner was washing the vehicle when the 70-pound pit bull jumped on the dash and somehow shifted the car into reverse.

The car backed out of the car wash bay, continued onto a highway and then looped around before coming to a stop at an automated car wash lane.

Crittenden said the vehicle was impounded because its owner was unable to provide proof of insurance.

You’re probably thinking that I’m going to use this story to launch into a rant about irresponsible dog owners.  And — in this case you’re wrong.

I’m not casting any stones here because about 25 years ago, a strikingly similar thing happened to me.

Dog (yes, that really was his name) was a very large (80-lb), very exuberant (do they come any other way?) German Shorthair Pointer.  He and his buddy Keno the Aussie were the companions of evil ex-husband and I on many hiking and camping trips. Dog was no rocket scientist but he knew the difference between a suitcase and a backpack and when the backpacks came out he would become absolutely delirious with excitement.

So, on this particular sunny, autumn day I was busy sorting and stowing gear into packs, checking and double-checking supplies and running back and forth to the car to pack up our gear for a weekend trip. The dogs were amping up but generally behaving themselves – staying in the house as I took each trip to the carport and refraining from knocking over furniture or breaking lamps in their mounting enthusiasm.

Until… the sierra cup fell off my pack just as I stepped through the door. As I held the door open and bent over to pick it up, Dog apparently mistook my butt for a release command and I was knocked flat by a liver and white blur. I picked myself up and saw Dog in the back seat of the car – grinning from ear to ear and vibrating in anticipation.

“&%@# dog. You’re sitting right where I need to stow this pack. GIT!”  And being, generally, a good dog, git is exactly what he did.  In a flash he had leapt between the bucket seats and into… the driver’s seat.

Did I mention that all four of the car’s door were open? And that it was parked on a hill? And that I had been a compleat moron and forgot to set the parking brake?

The next thing I know my car is rolling backwards down the driveway at an alarming rate of speed (think steep hill) with all four doors open and a large and very happy dog sitting proudly in the driver’s seat. Somehow he managed to make the corner at the bottom of the drive and sped off – flying backwards down the street.  He managed to make it about four houses down the street where, in another amazing feat of luck inconvenience he managed to execute another turn into my neighbor’s driveway where he crashed into an enormous Chevy Suburban.

Upon impact, Dog (apparently being, at heart, a coward) leapt out of the car and ran off to hide in the shrubs near our front door. Incredibly, the Suburban’s owner was standing next to his vehicle (which was, by the way, his pride and joy) when the incident occurred. As I stood there, not knowing what to say (or whether to run) he started to laugh. The poor guy laughed so hard I thought he was going to wet his pants (thus adding dry cleaning fees to the day’s geometrically expanding list of dog-related expenses.)

I called Dog back. Mad as hell at him and even madder at myself for being the clueless dolt who had (albeit inadvertently) set up the entire unfortunate situation we were in – I was also relieved to see that Dog was completely unfazed by the incident. Sadly, my little car had not fared so well. The driver’s door was crumpled and its window was broken, the frame between the two driver’s side doors was bent – pulling the middle of the roof down slightly – and several creases now ran the length of its body.  In yet another odd quirk of fate, the Suburban somehow survived the episode with nothing more than a hand-sized dent in its rear bumper.

Suburban man admitted that ordinarily he would make a major issue of such a thing and demand that his baby be restored back to the pristine condition she’d been in before the accident – but he wanted to keep this little dent intact so he could tell all his friends the story of the dog that wrecked his car.

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Entry filed under: dogs, humor.

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1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Haley Zandstra  |  November 27, 2012 at 10:11 am

    i have a dog named Thrash she a smart dog.

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