Author: Gil

I knew bringing a new greyhound into our home would be initially stressful and nerve-wracking for me. This one’s a lot more prey-sensitive when we’re outdoors, and he’s in the early exploratory phase of his new home. I know it’s only been about 24 hours since we got him here, but I’m just way too high-strung for this sorta thing. I’m in nervous-nauseous mode, even though Otis B. Driftwood Roth is actually getting along pretty well with his new family.

How well?

Click through it for the rest of the (small,) cute photoset. I’m gonna go take some Xanax or something.

(Really, it’s mainly our walks that are the big strain for me. I’m in such a rhythm with Rufus that having to train Otis is totally throwing me off. A big part of it is that, while I’m trying to train him to follow my lead and not to chase after things, I’m also training him to know his new name. So if you’re in my neighborhood and you see me looking a little frazzled during a walk with my two boys, cut me some slack.)

We decided a few weeks ago that Rufus T. Firefly would be a happier dog if he had a little sister to keep him company. He wasn’t getting weird, exactly, but we felt that he’d be better around other dogs if he had a fellow grey around during the day, and didn’t just have to be the foil to my repartee.

So we went down to the Greyhound Friends NJ annual craft fair to check out some of the “adoptables” they brought along. We had our eye on a particular girl we saw on their website, but she turned out to be a little ball of rage and fury.

We checked out a number of other available greys, and found that Rufus got along really well with one of the males, Conner’s AR. “Connie” was very affectionate, easy-going and, okay, maybe a little prey-driven, but that can be worked on.

The more we talked with people down there — GFNJ people, foster “parents”, other grey-owners at the fair — the more convinced we became that getting another male wouldn’t be a bad idea. I was somewhat concerned about space issues, since Connie is actually a little taller than Rufus, but one of our long-time GFNJ contacts said, “When you get down to it, they all take up the same space.”

So, despite our aim of getting an smallish female grey, we ended up adopting a big ol’ male. One of the GFNJ people — the same one who tied a leash to my wrist when we were taking another grey for a walk — told me that we’d need to muzzle both dogs for the ride home. We complied. Ten minutes into the hour-long drive, I looked back to see that they were both zonked out, lying on their sides, one’s paw draped over the other’s tail. They were clearly a menace to life and limb.

I’ve got next week off, so I’ll be able to help our new boy get acclimated to his new home. He did a little better with the stairs than Rufus did in his first few days, but this guy’s got a whole new world to get used to. Fortunately, he’s got a pretty awesome big brother who’s already teaching him proper sprawling-position.

The one thing is, we had no idea what to call him. See, we were planning on a female, and all the Duck Soup names that I came up with were more girl-suited: Pinky, Chicolini, Mrs. Tisdale, Maggie (after Margaret Dumont). (I also wanted to go with Chaka Cohen, but that would’ve been too weird.) Once we got home, we started looking through the Groucho Marx IMDB page, to find other character names that would compliment Rufus T. Firefly.

So now, I introduce you to our new fur-son, Otis B. Driftwood Roth:

(Here are more pix by my beloved wife.)

Oh, and here’s the male (and previously male) contingent of our happy family, in the Adoption Room at the fair:

Tomorrow marks 6 months since my dog Rufus got mauled by our neighbor’s akita. I haven’t written about our previous court appearances because the first was actually too awesomely bizarre for words, and I had to miss the second one to pick up my wife, who was working late that evening. The third meeting was tonight.

Rather than go to trial, the prosecutor wanted to go to restitution during our first meeting in July. The “negotiations” were pretty contentious, especially when the wife of the akita’s owner got involved. Her argument went that, since her broke-ass, unemployed husband wasn’t going to pay this debt, she should get in on things. She also tried to argue that their akita was “defending the property,” because Rufus stepped over their curb to take a pee. The prosecutor was having none of it, and the owner eventually agreed to pay back the full $2,000 I’d incurred in veterinary bills and supplies. Since he was unemployed, he agreed to pay me back over six months. When the prosecutor performed the act of division to explain how much that came out to a month, he decided he would pay me back over 10 months, in $200 installments.

We agreed that this sounded good, and put off the case for two months, at which point we’d meet again at municipal court and review the status. That second meeting is the one I had to miss, but the akita-owner did come through with a pair of $200 payments during that time, so I figured everything was working out okay. After all, did he really want this to go to trial, incur lawyer’s fees, and possibly get blown up by the judge?

Apparently, he did. He never made a payment in October, nor did he leave me a note apologizing or otherwise explaining what was up.

He put a check in my mailbox the day I got back from LA last week, but it was only for $100. I figured he was setting himself up for some sort of “Look, I’m trying, okay? I’m unemployed, and I’m doing everything I can! I gotta buy my kids Christmas presents!” approach. I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with that in tonight’s court appearance; it’d be one thing to just say, “He hasn’t paid in 2 months, let’s go blow him up,” but at least he was trying to make some sort of effort.

Then I tried to deposit his $100 check. It was drawn on the bank down the street, where I have an account. I walked in with the check and a deposit slip and said, “I’d like to deposit this, but I have reason to suspect that it’s going to bounce. Can you check the accont it’s drawn on for me?”

The clerk punched in the code, looked at the screen, frowned, and said, “No good.”

“He doesn’t have a hundred dollars in the bank?”

“Not in this account.”

“Wow.” I filled her in on the backstory a little, and she was aghast. She told me that she’d owned two akitas for 25 years, and they were good, as long as you trained them right.

“That said, when my female was getting older, she started to get irritable and she did bite my son on the face,” she commented.

So, recharged in my rage, I headed to court this afternoon. I was all ready with my “Do I LOOK like a motherfucking collections agency?!” line.

It was around a 2-hour wait to meet with the prosecutor, but I passed the time talking with my neighbor Bob, whose dog was also attacked by the akita, 3 weeks before the attack on Rufus. His vet bills came out to $400, and he forgave the akita’s owner half the debt, after he made the first payment. Still, he was on the service list for the case, and wanted to see how things developed.

The prosecutor remembered our case from the summer. “Oh, yes. His wife got involved. That was . . . a point of contention,” he said, diplomatically.

We recounted where things stood at present. He asked if the owner had shown up. I said that we hadn’t seen him, and he asked a policeman to go out the courthouse and check for him. No sign.

“Now what do we do?” I asked him.

“Now we go to trial,” he told me, filling out a slip for the judge. He asked me to go to the courtroom, wait for this case to be declared, and answer the judge’s questions. I spent a half-hour or so watching a procession of speeders, drunk drivers, improper shed-builders (?) and a guy in orange jumpsuit and shackles. When our case was called, they once again tried to find the akita owner, but he was a no-show. The judge asked how much the man owes me, and told me that I’d be added to the service list and would be notified of the trial date.

So that’s the skinny. My neighbor — 3 doors away but far enough that I don’t see him regularly — is $1,600 in the hole, and may have to cover court costs and other damages, depending on the judge’s mood. I’ve gotta blow another evening sometime for that. On the plus side, I think the court can go after his money for me. I mean, do I LOOK like a motherfucking collections agency?!

(Oh, and Ru is just fine. He made a great recovery.)