"Today I Saved Pooh Bear"

(and other short stories about South Florida's obsession with small dogs)

"Today I Saved Pooh Bear" by elise hanna

I was leaving Starbucks this morning, as I do every morning, with a toddler (there I said it, toddler) in one arm, keys in one had and my iced tall soy latte in the other. (Oh wait that's three hands! Shit. Must get third hand, keep needing it.)
So there I am busting a move to Publix (or Pube-ex to insiders) to grab a few things that I realize I have forgotten from Sunday's weekly shopping extravaganza. When from behind me I hear, "Pooh Bear!!" from a "Palm Beachy" woman (who is perfectly fit and able to catch Poohy Bear her damn self) struck with fear that her sweet Pooh Bear has escaped, all two pounds of Yorkie* fuzz has broken free, leash intact from her dainty grip.... or perhaps it just gnawed it's way out of it's custom, poop stained, $2500 Louis Vitton, monogrammed dog carrier.

Anywho, driven by the damage I may cause to my child having to watch a small animal get run over curbside of his favorite coffee shop, I leap into action. (Mostly because everyone else is in tears that Pooh Bear would ever think to escape, when it leads such a posh life in an overly silk-flowered-beachside-condo, and never has to set foot in a patch of grass, but is instead held delicately over the toilet to "piddle.") I look down at my hands (all three of them) brimming with baby and soy, and think "well maybe I'll just let it go, my hands are full, and I'm not dropping my baby or my latte for this little puppy." (Not the choice many a South Floridian would make, but hey, my roots are still firmly in the PN-Dub (PNW, er Pacific Northwest) Thinking as fast as my three sips of coffee will allow, I step out and just stop tiny Pooh Bear, from his suicide mission great escape.

**sighs of relief from onlookers**

I patiently wait, with a steadfast grip on all important items, until another onlooker (still not Poopsies owner) zips over and picks up Pooh Bear's leash and delivers him/her back to frozen-in-time lady. I'm not expecting the Caldecott Medal here (or whatever the hell you get for saving a dog from certain death) but this lady starts to thank everyone around her in a pill-induced frenzy, while hugging Poochie a little too tightly and licking it's fur back into place, straightening hair bows, and checking for chipped puppy nail polish. I make a break for it as to avoid any type of dreaded on the spot medal ceremony, while decked out in my sweaty gym clothes. While, from behind me I hear a nice man who was changing the light bulb above the madness, repeat time and time again to Pooh Bear's "mommy" who is thanking him (as if he could have saved poopsie from atop a 12 foot ladder), "she did it! The woman (I prefer girl) with the baby! She did it, thank her, not me!" But, crazy head just kept, giving Pooh Bear mouth-to-mouth and thanking the stucco covered column in front of her.

* to my grandmother, who is so hip and follows this blog, and probably has her own blog, I would save your sweet Yorkies in a minute, I have nothing against Yorkies or puppies of any breed, just certain delinquent owners :) love you and the babies!