I have a really good friend named Tim. He’s one of the most interesting people because he always has a funny (true) story to tell.

In fact, he’s a lot like me in that THINGS always seem to happen to him that don’t happen to other people.

He’s also the manager of a restaurant I frequent a couple of times a month, so over the years, I’ve heard a lot of his stories.

Here’s my favorite, so far:

Tim was at work recently, minding his own business—no pun intended—greeting customers and supervising the staff.

Now, if you knew Tim, you’d see that he is an immaculate dresser: starched shirt, pressed slacks and shiny shoes.

He’s also a perfect gentleman and always in control: cool, calm and collected.

But this one day he got a phone call—a complaint—right out of the blue, from the county Animal Control. Someone had called in and said that Tim’s dog, Dexter, was under their house, barking.

Tim said that was absolutely impossible, his yard has an invisible fence and Dexter should not, could not and would not leave his yard.

Never had, never would. The officer told Tim he’d have to come right away.   

Tim drove home and it was true: Dexter was nowhere to be found.

That’s when Tim had an “Aha!” moment and thought back to all of those letters from the fence company, that he’d thrown out, thinking they were junk mail.

He added two and two together and realized this was the problem: the batteries must have died, allowing Dexter to “break free” and leave the yard.

So off Tim went to the neighbor’s house (a music teacher who taught lessons from home, no less: I’m sure both he AND Dexter were frustrated). Come to find out, Dexter was indeed under the house, in the crawl space. Tim heard him barking, leaned down and called Dexter’s name over and over, but he wouldn’t come.

It was pitch black under there, so using a flashlight; Tim crawled inch-by-inch on his knees and elbows.

(I can’t imagine this because as I said, Tim is a super-sharp dresser and spit-shine clean, always.)

The further he crawled, the closer Dexter’s bark sounded—but again, there was no Dexter in sight.

As luck would have it, Dexter had gone into one access, then made a turn and went even further, into another access.

Sliding on his belly commando-style, Tim continued his search and finally came upon his beloved pooch, Dexter.

And this part is unreal: Dexter, a huge Doberman (though extremely gentle, Tim says), was standing perhaps 4’ away from the neighbor’s small kitty cat.

Can you just imagine?

But, Tim says they were not fighting.

They were merely staring at each other, surprised. And here was Tim: staring at both of them, even more surprised.

Tim finally got Dexter, went home and immediately ordered the batteries for Dexter’s collar.

“But wait, there’s more,” I often say, and there is: The next day Tim was at work once again and this time, he got a personal visit from Animal Control.

He also noticed a police car in the parking lot, as well. Animal Control said they just wanted to check and make sure everything was okay, that they’d had three complaints that day, and that the next time they would have to issue a citation.

Tim was stunned; and once again, he had an “Aha” moment.

He said this couldn’t be right; that Dexter only barked when someone came into his backyard and Dexter was on the front porch on a leash, happy.

(Tim was still waiting for the batteries to come.) Tim then remembered that his NEIGHBOR’S dog barks constantly, making him the guilty culprit, and releasing Dexter of further blame. Poor Tim: he’d never had a complaint about Dexter in his whole life and now he’d hadtwo in two days.

I saw Tim again last week and asked him how things were going with Dexter. Tim said, “Great!”

Now the batteries are working, and Tim can do the same.

Ann Ipock – “Life Is Short, So Read This Fast!” amipock@ec.rr.com www.annipock.com