Of Stray Dogs and Happy Hours

Thursday sucked.

I spent my field work time trying to convince a stray dog (who had obviously had puppies within the last few days) to come towards me instead of playing with traffic on the highway. That didn't work. So Colleen and I called our 311 system who transfered us to 911 instead of animal control (probably because I said the dog was a danger to the drivers on the highway). So we waited half an hour for the cop to show up. When she got there, she tried to get the dog to come towards her with the same success I did, so she called in Animal Control and then we waited...and waited...and waited...an hour later animal control FINALLY came out. Only to chase the dog from the grass median between the highway and the frontage road to the other side of the frontage road. At least she was on the 'safe' side of the road, and closer to her puppies, at least that's the theory. But it did suck that animal control wouldn't go after her since they did their job of getting her away from the highway.

I got back to work and thought "at least I get to leave to go to happy hour in 2 hours." Only to find out that no, I didn't get to go to happy hour because Shawn's coworkers think "close of business" is 630/7 pm as opposed to 5 pm. So I had an hour to kill before I could meet them. So, I sat at work and did more work. I even showed up 30 minutes late, and was still there before Shawn and his coworkers showed up. Of course, I was so pissed off by then that I just really wanted to eat some food and go home. We ultimately ended up staying at the bar until 10. And just so you know, the hard cider I had was cheaper than Shawn's root beer. Yeah, I don't know what crazy world we live in where the alcohol is cheaper than the soda...

At least Friday was better.