Taking Time Out of Day Drinking to Give Back: Helping a Dog in Need

When you live a glamorous life of unemployment, you sometimes have to take a break from luxuries like 3-day pajama parties, Ally McBeal marathons on Netflix, and day drinking, in order to give back.

“But how do you find time for giving back when you are busy being fabulously unemployed and day drunk?”

This is an excellent question, and generally I find that once I put down the bottle and get dressed, I can conquer anything.

Remember that: getting dressed and not drinking will make you invincible.

The need for help arose from a fellow animal rescuer friend of mine who needed someone to pull a dog from an animal shelter. This dog was not considered generally adoption-worthy, partly because he was a bit too fearful for the general public, but mostly because he has a raging case of mange and is missing most of his body hair.

Le Mange: Mangey and needs to eat

Le Mange: Mangey and needs to eat

CAH and I started calling him “Le Mange,” because it made his mange sound fancier, and it is doubly appropriate because “mange” means “eat” in French, and Lemange could stand to gain some weight.

We then changed it from “Le Mange,” to “Lemange,” because we didn’t want it to sound too French. Nobody likes a pretentious dog.

So I drove over to the shelter and grabbed little Lemange and then drove him around while I waited to meet the person transferring him to his final destination. He stared at me with large, confused, ominous eyes, which is understandable considering in the last week he’d been found, taken to the shelter, waited for his dickbag owners** to show up (they obviously never did), and was now in some stranger’s car while she babbled on incessantly to him.

wiseass wife

“See that guy over there, Lemange? He’s super shady – look at the way he keeps looking around all shifty-like.”

Lemange squinted and, even though I know it was probably just a nervous squint, it totally looked like he was trying to get a closer look at the shady guy, so I went on imparting my wisdom on him:

“Also, he’s wearing saggy pants – never trust a guy in saggy pants who is looking around as much as that guy. He is shady as shit.”

Lemange licked his nose, which I assumed was dog for, “Yeah, he’s totally shady as shit.” So I scolded him for his potty mouth – he’s only 2 years old. No 2 year old should be saying the s-word.

I finally handed him off to the guy taking him and decided not to offer up the name “Lemange” as a possible name for him, since I just met the guy and didn’t want to have to explain my twisted sense of humor.

And by the time I got home, SUCCESS! A picture of Lemange with his new pug buddy:

the wiseass wife

I think this is a valuable lesson to all – unemployment saves lives.

Happy dogs!

Happy dogs!

** In all fairness, Lemange’s former owners may be lovely people and maybe something terrible happened to them and that is why he has ended up in the condition he’s in. But my money is on them just being dickbags.

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