This is the place to come for sad, sorry tales, right? →[More:] Here was my day. My wife, 37 weeks pregnant, is admitted to hospital with a high blood pressure - 145 over 105. When she rushed off to hospital in a taxi, she left the back gate unlatched - she couldn't contact me because I was out working in a swamp, out of cellphone range, so I found out she was in hospital four hours later. I arrive home eight hours later to find an open gate, and two missing dogs. Two hours after that, I get a call from the RSPCA telling me they have my dogs in the pound. Thank "Bob" for microchipping. I will be able to pick them up sometime after 1pm tomorrow, but the pound's website seems to suggest I'm looking at a $200 bill for each to be released, which is probably going to mean crawling to my family for help, or trying to talk my way out of it.
This may be possible. We've just arrived from interstate, and the dogs
are registered where we came from - if I can convince the pound that we hadn't got around to registering them here yet, then apparently I might be able to get them released for a bit less.
Wifey is doing okay, though. They're monitoring her overnight, and she's having an ultrasound in the morning.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting back with a bottle of comfort-chardonnay, in an empty house with no dogs and no wife.
It sucks pretty hard.