Caine Bleaga

I'm down here in Mobile, AL celebrating the Thanksgiving holidays with my wife's (very large) family. This year's trip was made all the more interesting because... we brought the dog. And also because Monica's parents don't mind the dog running wild and free inside the house.

Yesterday Monica decided to go on an extended shopping spree with her sister, leaving me in charge of the kiddies. She also left the dog (inside the house). After several hours enduring children's shrieks as they chased the dog around the house, I began to get antsy. The dog began to destroy its stuffed toys, spreading the cotton stuffing everywhere. And then the dog scratched at the door and whined. My eyes bulged. Someone said those infamous words, "I think she needs to go outside." My eyes bulged wider. You see, I don't touch the dog. On the other hand, I would rather touch the vile creature than have to clean up a steaming pile of poop-a-doop while my in-laws watch me wretch and heave.

Out you go, little doggy! I opened the door so she could "away", while my brother-in-law pointed out that maybe she needed a leash. She had been out earlier without a leash, and had waited by the door for someone to let her in, so I assumed she would do the same again. She darted outside, free as a bird. And she ran like the wind. I shut the door.

My father-in-law stepped outside for something and I heard him calling, "Sophie! Sophie!" Then he stepped in and announced that the beast had run over to the trailer park next door and was cavorting with the neighbors, who might grab the animal and disappear into a trailer, never to be seen again. Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, I was thinking at the time, but I knew my wife and kids would have my neck if I let someone make off with "precious".

By the time I made my way to the battered fence that separates my in-laws' property from the trailer park, I could hear several little barely clothed urchins running around exclaiming, "Hey! Who's dog is that?" I figured I had better stake my claim, and made my presence known. "Hey, can y'all get that dog for me?" Immediately the kids started chasing the dog. They chased the creature up and down the trailer park, out of sight, back and around, while I paced back and forth trying to see through the broken slats in the fence.

Finally I found a broken slat I could stick my head through. I grabbed the fence and eased my head through, when KAPPOW! something hit the side of my head, whipping it slightly around. Ow. That hurt. My first thought was that some little urchin was lurking in a window shooting at me with a BB gun. I rubbed my temple and stepped away from the fence, glowering. A rain of pellets (or something) was peppering the fence, then I saw someone duck down behind a half-opened window in one of the trailers. Was this for real? I was ready to start yelling something intelligent like, "What are you doing?? Shooting at people??", however in the back of my mind I pictured some ape of a man wearing a "wife-beater" lurking just inside the trailer. I was either in a war zone, or an episode of COPS.

Finally one of the kids managed to catch Sophie just before she ran into traffic. I figured I needed to do something in the way of expressing my abundant gratitude, so, since I didn't have any cash handy, I turned it on thick.

"What's your name son? Lee? Lee, you are the man. You've done an incredible job. I see great potential as a dog-catcher in your future, son."

Lee nodded shyly and stepped away. I gripped the dog tightly and carried it back inside.

I always expand my limited understanding of Romanian while staying with Monica's family, because they speak Romanian roughly 60% of the time. Caine bleaga means "stupid dog".

'Nuff said.