The, ummm, rest of the story



So, I was going to tell the story of how we came to have a third dog, Mocha.



In the fall of 2000, I had resolved to quit my job, with nothing in line. I was simply worn out, grinding my teeth, hating my life. On the Saturday morning before Labor Day, I went for a run with my dogs. I started thinking about the people that had left my (then) employer, by the company terminating them, by their taking other jobs. 16 out of a group of 60, most with over 5 years or more.



There was Bill, the attorney, who was having an affair with his assistant, when the president called him into the front office, telling him that one of them would have to leave. They both left, immediately.



There was Stanley, who took another job with a non-profit, and was called into the Chairman's office. The Chairman asked him, "What would it take to keep you here?"

Stanley responded, "You guys don't get it. I don't want to work here." The Chairman just about popped a blood vessel in his forehead.



So it went, as I ran, I thought of what I would do if I were fired. All the scenarios I ran through in my head seemed better than I was doing there. So I decided that I would quit, in a couple weeks.



I started investigating ways to get into technology, seeing where I could go to school to learn something that would get me into the work I wanted to do, the places where I wanted to work.



After a week, the pressure grew. I knew I was leaving. I simply needed to pull the trigger. I decided to give notice on September 11, 2000.



On that morning, I woke up at 4:00 AM, my brain thinking of what I had to do, how I would do what I had to do. I laid in bed thinking until 5:00 AM when I decided to get up and go for a run. I put on a pair of shorts and leashed up Chester and Tasha and headed out to the Plaza.



I remember nothing of the run except returning home around 41st Street. At Gillham Park, a trash barrel sat overflowing. Chester and Tasha lurched toward it, pulling me with them. In the twilight, I saw what appeared to be a dead rabbit. As I turned, the light grew somewhat brighter and I saw the rabbit was actually a small puppy. I picked it up with one hand, cradling it against my bare chest, holding the leash with my left hand.



It was about 6:00 AM when I came into the house, shouting, "Laurie, I found a puppy!!"



"It's a golden retriever," she said.



I went into work that morning and typed my resignation letter.



We found out later that someone had been giving away puppies from a car on Sunday, September 10. I suspect that some kid had brought her home and was told to take her "back where you got it." I'll never know. She was only 4 weeks old.