.
It was a simple plan: Get out early in order to dig on the dogs before the heat of August crushed me. My goal was to be digging by 8 am.
I packed up the tools and gassed up the truck. I loaded a milk jug with water and froze it so the cooler would have ice. I packed Mountain Dews and water. I charged the cell phone and the camera batteries.
In the driveway, I paused. Did I have everything? Shovel, bar, collars, batteries, dogs? Gloves, camera, hat, sunscreen, cooler, veterinary box, posthole digger, Bertha? Check, check, check.
I drove the vehicle all of six blocks before getting derailed. Sometimes our plans make God laugh. This was one of those days.
Zipping down Military Road a beagle ran right in front of the car. I missed it, but just barely, and a car in the other lane screeched to a halt, just missing a second beagle darting across the road. A third beagle sniffed a lawn 10 yards up on my side of the road.
The lady in the other car pulled over, and I did too. She was surprised I had three leashes and three choke chains in the car with me. I am always full of surprises.
We spent a few minutes rounding up the dogs. They were not too skittish, thank goodness.
These were very nice looking beagles; not fat, very clean and quite friendly.
Now who did they belong to?
One dog had no collar at all, another had a collar on but no tag, and the third dog had on both a collar and a tag, but the tag had only a name and phone number -- there was no street address.
I called the phone number on the tag and got a mechanical voice that said there was no one to take my call. This was a phone service -- there was no message machine at all. The service message was cryptic; the phone might have been disconnected.
With the help of a neighbor in a nearby house, we got a street address that corresponded to the last name on the dog tag. It was an uncommon German name, and lucky for me there was only one other person with that name in the County. That house was only a couple of blocks away -- another good sign. Though the house had the same 3-digit phone exchange as the telephone number on the dog collar, the last 4-digits of the phone number were different.
It was a lead, and I would take what I could get. I loaded all three beagles into my Explorer, and went to the address. It turned out to be Aldrich Ames' old house.
Aldrich Ames was the CIA-spy turned traitor that fingered over 100 agents to the Russians. At least 10 of those agents were later executed. Untold intelligence operations were compromised and important secrets were given away. It was, without a doubt, the greatest act of treachery and treason in the history of the CIA. Ames went to jail (he should have been executed) and his wife left to go back to her home country of Colombia. The house was sold and Ames's other assets were seized. Ames had collected over $4.5 million from the Soviets -- real blood money. This was in 1994.
Going up the short driveway to Ames' old house, it was quickly apparent that something was again off-kilter at this residence. Though everything looked fine on the surface (mowed lawn, trimmed bushes, good paint on the house, cars in the driveway, no newspapers stacked up), a large "Do Not Move" sticker was on a car in the driveway, notifying anyone that cared to look that the vehicle was being seized by the County over a tax dispute. That was odd.
The house looked empty and there was a lot of stuff in the garage. The backyard had a short fence, and wire mesh ran around the base. Perhaps this backyard had held these beagles, but there was no way to be sure. The fence looked too short -- just four feet. With no one home, and some signs of financial distress at the house, I was not leaving them in a yard I was pretty sure was not dog secure.
I happened to know a family five doors down, and I rang the door bell there. Everyone was asleep (it was early Sunday morning) except their young daughter who is now age 9 or 10. No, she did not know if anyone up the street had beagles.
It was a simple plan: Get out early in order to dig on the dogs before the heat of August crushed me. My goal was to be digging by 8 am.
I packed up the tools and gassed up the truck. I loaded a milk jug with water and froze it so the cooler would have ice. I packed Mountain Dews and water. I charged the cell phone and the camera batteries.
In the driveway, I paused. Did I have everything? Shovel, bar, collars, batteries, dogs? Gloves, camera, hat, sunscreen, cooler, veterinary box, posthole digger, Bertha? Check, check, check.
I drove the vehicle all of six blocks before getting derailed. Sometimes our plans make God laugh. This was one of those days.
Zipping down Military Road a beagle ran right in front of the car. I missed it, but just barely, and a car in the other lane screeched to a halt, just missing a second beagle darting across the road. A third beagle sniffed a lawn 10 yards up on my side of the road.
The lady in the other car pulled over, and I did too. She was surprised I had three leashes and three choke chains in the car with me. I am always full of surprises.
We spent a few minutes rounding up the dogs. They were not too skittish, thank goodness.
These were very nice looking beagles; not fat, very clean and quite friendly.
Now who did they belong to?
One dog had no collar at all, another had a collar on but no tag, and the third dog had on both a collar and a tag, but the tag had only a name and phone number -- there was no street address.
I called the phone number on the tag and got a mechanical voice that said there was no one to take my call. This was a phone service -- there was no message machine at all. The service message was cryptic; the phone might have been disconnected.
With the help of a neighbor in a nearby house, we got a street address that corresponded to the last name on the dog tag. It was an uncommon German name, and lucky for me there was only one other person with that name in the County. That house was only a couple of blocks away -- another good sign. Though the house had the same 3-digit phone exchange as the telephone number on the dog collar, the last 4-digits of the phone number were different.
It was a lead, and I would take what I could get. I loaded all three beagles into my Explorer, and went to the address. It turned out to be Aldrich Ames' old house.
Aldrich Ames was the CIA-spy turned traitor that fingered over 100 agents to the Russians. At least 10 of those agents were later executed. Untold intelligence operations were compromised and important secrets were given away. It was, without a doubt, the greatest act of treachery and treason in the history of the CIA. Ames went to jail (he should have been executed) and his wife left to go back to her home country of Colombia. The house was sold and Ames's other assets were seized. Ames had collected over $4.5 million from the Soviets -- real blood money. This was in 1994.
Going up the short driveway to Ames' old house, it was quickly apparent that something was again off-kilter at this residence. Though everything looked fine on the surface (mowed lawn, trimmed bushes, good paint on the house, cars in the driveway, no newspapers stacked up), a large "Do Not Move" sticker was on a car in the driveway, notifying anyone that cared to look that the vehicle was being seized by the County over a tax dispute. That was odd.
The house looked empty and there was a lot of stuff in the garage. The backyard had a short fence, and wire mesh ran around the base. Perhaps this backyard had held these beagles, but there was no way to be sure. The fence looked too short -- just four feet. With no one home, and some signs of financial distress at the house, I was not leaving them in a yard I was pretty sure was not dog secure.
I happened to know a family five doors down, and I rang the door bell there. Everyone was asleep (it was early Sunday morning) except their young daughter who is now age 9 or 10. No, she did not know if anyone up the street had beagles.
In the end, there was no alternative but to take the dogs to the County animal shelter. I did not feel guilty doing it -- it is a very clean, well-lighted and antiseptic place and the dogs would be well treated. If a dog is not violent and healthy, it will be adopted out of this shelter within a day or two of being made available -- especially if it is a small to medium-size and gentle dog, as these beagles certainly were.
These really were nice and well-behaved dogs, and they were in the pink of health. I imagine they will be retrieved by their owner soon enough. If not, I am willing to bet they will be adopted into a life of luxury. If you are going to be a stray dog, this is not a bad County to live in.
The Arlington County Animal Shelter could be an up-scale veterinarian's office. It has nice art on the walls, and dog toys and dog collars for sale. The people that work there are a little odd, however. Based on visual evidence alone, it seems you have to have several parts of your face pierced to qualify for employment. One girl had 10 studs going up around one ear, and a friendly young man had long metal studs (at least two inches!) going through both ears and through both his top and bottom lips. How could he eat like that?
I suppose a dog does not mind the pierced look, but it's an odd thing to see at an animal shelter. These young people would cringe at the idea of hunting or fishing ("You kill animals?"), but here they were mutilating their own bodies and working at a shelter that occasionally euthanized perfectly fine pit bulls.
Without a doubt, humans are odd creatures. They make loons look like smart birds.
Free of the beagles, I headed out with my own dogs. It was now too late in the day (and too hot) to start digging solo. No matter. I went out anyway, and scouted new farm land with Sailor.
Though this new land looked terrific (soybeans, corn, fallow fields, wooded and brushy hedgerows, small patches of woods, many acres of sunflowers), I did not find any dens. Not a one.
I am not sure why, but I have an idea. There are some vegetative signs that suggest this area has a very high water table. Without a doubt some areas flood in early spring. If the entire area gets super-saturated in the spring and winter, that might account for the lack of den pipes. Things that den in the ground value dryness above all things. A dry house is more important than food.
A winter walk will no doubt reveal more, and I will return in the Fall as well, as some of the overgrown fields may be cut down by then, perhaps revealing some settes unseen. With hundreds of acres to explore, I am sure something will turn up, as there have to be a few bone-dry ridges and high spots.
As for the beagles, I will check up on them on Tuesday.
I think they will be picked up, but it would be nice to know for sure. I have called both the tag number and the Aldrich Ames-house number several times, but have yet to get anyone to pick up -- not even a machine on which to leave a message.
Some things are destined to be a mystery.
These really were nice and well-behaved dogs, and they were in the pink of health. I imagine they will be retrieved by their owner soon enough. If not, I am willing to bet they will be adopted into a life of luxury. If you are going to be a stray dog, this is not a bad County to live in.
The Arlington County Animal Shelter could be an up-scale veterinarian's office. It has nice art on the walls, and dog toys and dog collars for sale. The people that work there are a little odd, however. Based on visual evidence alone, it seems you have to have several parts of your face pierced to qualify for employment. One girl had 10 studs going up around one ear, and a friendly young man had long metal studs (at least two inches!) going through both ears and through both his top and bottom lips. How could he eat like that?
I suppose a dog does not mind the pierced look, but it's an odd thing to see at an animal shelter. These young people would cringe at the idea of hunting or fishing ("You kill animals?"), but here they were mutilating their own bodies and working at a shelter that occasionally euthanized perfectly fine pit bulls.
Without a doubt, humans are odd creatures. They make loons look like smart birds.
Free of the beagles, I headed out with my own dogs. It was now too late in the day (and too hot) to start digging solo. No matter. I went out anyway, and scouted new farm land with Sailor.
Though this new land looked terrific (soybeans, corn, fallow fields, wooded and brushy hedgerows, small patches of woods, many acres of sunflowers), I did not find any dens. Not a one.
I am not sure why, but I have an idea. There are some vegetative signs that suggest this area has a very high water table. Without a doubt some areas flood in early spring. If the entire area gets super-saturated in the spring and winter, that might account for the lack of den pipes. Things that den in the ground value dryness above all things. A dry house is more important than food.
A winter walk will no doubt reveal more, and I will return in the Fall as well, as some of the overgrown fields may be cut down by then, perhaps revealing some settes unseen. With hundreds of acres to explore, I am sure something will turn up, as there have to be a few bone-dry ridges and high spots.
As for the beagles, I will check up on them on Tuesday.
I think they will be picked up, but it would be nice to know for sure. I have called both the tag number and the Aldrich Ames-house number several times, but have yet to get anyone to pick up -- not even a machine on which to leave a message.
Some things are destined to be a mystery.
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