Stranger than fiction

Mel Anderson
S-E Staff reporter

I adopted a dog this week, in the oddest way I’ve ever adopted a dog.

The day started normally. I got stuck in a ditch of snow and had to call my daughter’s boyfriend’s father to first dig, then tow me out while he offered me driving lessons and extolled the virtues of four wheel drive and muttered something under his breath about women drivers.

After my car was free from the snow, I did a little grocery shopping, just a little, before heading back home. On the way I saw a hitchhiker.

It was cold outside, and I was driving that way anyway, and it’s almost Christmas, and you can’t not trust everyone, and do unto the least of these my brethren, and pay it forward and amen hallelujah.
So I picked up the hitchhiker who, when she got in the car, I saw was carrying a little black puppy.

First the hitchhiker told me she was high on meth and cocaine, which I thought was an odd combination, but to each his own, right? I’m addicted to binge watching The Office, my daughter’s addicted to chocolate and my husband’s addicted to bad action flicks. Who am I to judge?

Then she told me that Satan lived in her head and told her to hurt people, which is about the point I questioned the safety of the decision to pick up a stranger on the side of the road and wondered if the newspaper would run my obituary for free because I work there, or make my husband pay for it?

I was seriously concerned for my safety and my first thought was whether or not my part-time reporter job would get me a free obit. These things are important.

According to my good friend the hitchhiker, meth made the demons go away, so she needed another fix. As I’m unfamiliar with illicit drugs, I can neither confirm nor deny the usefulness of methamphetamines to chase away the angry undead.

Also according to the hitchhiker, the puppy she was carrying was possessed by demons and would I please take said puppy for my very own to protect him from the flaming fires of hell.

I didn’t plan on getting another dog, but in my experience when someone who’s clearly had better days offers you a hungry, innocent animal who may or may not be possessed by devils, you accept the gift.

I dropped off the friendly neighborhood hitchhiker, bought puppy food, and called my husband.

I explained to my husband, who is staunchly against having anymore animals, that I honestly didn’t go out of my way to get a puppy, but a mentally ill drug addict I picked up on the side of the road gave him to me, so what could I do?

Oddly, he was more concerned about the mentally ill drug addict hitchhiker being in my car than the fact she gave me a dog.

So far as I’ve seen, Hitch (what I named the puppy) isn’t possessed by the devil, but give him enough time with my crazy children, and he might be.