Michael Scott.... the Black and white little dog

The Story of Michael Scott by Sean Kellys (3About a week ago as I was traveling home from exercise on foot I saw an interesting sight. I saw Wendy Hazelhoffer running away from Mike again. She had jumped out of Mike's car and was running around on Lower Sacramento road like a mad woman. I thought "Ah, Mike has gone and done it again! She's going to run away this time!"

What I could not see was that Wendy was pursing a very little dog. He was so small I could not see him due to the median in the road blocking my view. The small dog hopped up onto the median and ran into my view while running from the very scary Wendy Hazelhoffer (Michael Scott's words not mine). As he ran into my view I backed into the lawn area at Jim Elliott so as to not frighten our little Dunder Mifflin Regional Manager back into the roadway. As he made his way to the side walk I whistled to him and he made his way to me. He got close, but just an inch out of arms length. So I squatted, very uncomfortably, and waited for either the dog to approach or my knees to break and send me screaming in pain. Fortunately the little administrator moved close enough to pet him on his chest. Which he loved, and allowed me to pick him up. He was a bit nervous, and as I stood there Michael and Wendy approached and we discussed the fate of the mini executive.

While in conversation our friends Scott and Jill Means approached in their vehicle, and when they had happened upon us all it felt like a small church conference of sorts, and we all laughed. Someone commented "what will you name your new favored one?" To which I replied "Scott Hazelhoffer!" Quickly Michael rebuffed my naming, "why must his name always be first!" I responded "Well enough, Mike Means. It sounds even sweeter!" Wendy then interjected "Why not Michael Scott?" Perfect, and so it was.

I walked my little friend home, I gave the dinky director a bath, and waited to introduce him to the rest of the family. He loved all the family members, but they all did not love him. Georgia thought he was nice, and he loved her the most. Hannah thought he was cute, and she found a love that grew in her heart more and more each day. Sam hated him, but pretended to be kind. However, at times was quite harsh to the dog. With comments like "Why is he sleeping there, that's where I sleep on the couch!" and "That's not my dog." and "he's a rat." and "I wouldn't want to be seen with him." and "we aren't little dog people." and  "Somebody needs to get rid of him." and "I don't care what happens to him!" None the less....the little dog loved Sam, fearfully, because some how knew his affection was not returned. But he persisted in trying to gain Sam's affection. The Mother of the home hated him even more. She loathed him. Her dark, hard, cold, little dog hating heart had no space for him. She was not cruel to him like the Sam, but was like a step mother pretending to have love for the child but he was too naïve to recognize the lack of affection. However, he loved her. He would bounce and jump and spin, and turn and wiggle whenever she entered the room. He would follow her every where she went! But she resented the affection, and wished in her heart for his death! I was conflicted. I called to notify the Animal Control in our community that we had the pee-wee boss, and hoped someone would call looking for him. So he had a time of reprieve in our home.

The first night he slept with Georgia at the foot of her bed. He was an almost perfect gentleman. apparently the diminutive comptroller licks himself far to often for light sleepers. Not very gentlemanly I'll admit, but he just needed a little coaching. The next day he enjoyed himself following around the Mother. The affection the little dog had for her was visible, but the darkness from her heart sadden mine. The second night, he slept in a basket in our room. He didn't make a peep. He was a perfect sleeper. He never barked, ever! He loved victors who came to the house. He was never afraid of anyone, just thrilled they were there. He didn't eat anything worth mentioning. Just a tiny appetite. He was very much potty trained, except for one tiny small accident in my office. He's so small it is almost forgivable. He really is a good boy.

That day we were to travel to Santa Cruz. What to do with our petite governor. Votes were cast on whether he  should come to the beach or stay home. Though the votes were in his favor to travel with us to the beach, the dissenting 2 votes were so filled with vitriol (no names mentioned, but they know who they are) that I made the decision to leave him behind. We secured him in the back yard, and hoped he would be well. I feared he would be cold back there in the evening. He has very little hair.

Upon our return to home, we found that Michael Scott had panicked, dug a hole under the fence and run away. Understandable I suppose. A new home. A strange yard, and so much hatred directed at him by those who he loved so much. I'm sure running away probably seemed a good decision. No one in this world loved him, and I'm sure he felt he might find that person somewhere else out there. However, a day later a friend and dear neighbor Karrie Heilbrun posted a picture of our pocket sized proprietor on the facebook. He was being held.... by a Lodi City Animal Control Officer. And there he sits, awaiting his cruel fate at the dog pound. It's been 5 days of hard jail time. His time in this life slipping away. I dropped by to visit him today. He was happy to see me, but a little resigned to his fate. Hopeful that some heart might turn toward him and spare his life, but recognizing that time is slipping away.

So there we are with our story. Do I know how this story ends? No, that finish hasn't been written yet. But there are individuals with the power to close this story with a happy closure, and those same hands can stop it with a heart breaking tragic ending. We shall see. I must admit to having little hope for the Regional Manager.