Death Has Been Cheated... And So Has The Humane Society

Ok so the past few days have just been weird. Here's a little story. Or three.
My poor little dog, who really isn't so little, can't stay at my house anymore. And so it's off to the Humane Society we go! I wake up early, get in the shower, mope all morning, scowl, hold back growls, and generally stay in the worst mood possible. After fighting with a dumb leash and collar for five minutes and trying to get it on my dog, who's jumping and running and sniffing and whining everywhere at everything like a five year old on Redbull and Pixie Stix, I finally managed to load the poor, hyperactive animal into the back of the van and drive 30 minutes out to this little tiny shelter off in the middle of frickin' nowhere. Dead Silence. 30 minutes later we pull up to the small, grungy, should-be-a-meth-lab building and I jump out of the vehicle to walk precariously down the wet pavement in heeled boots with slippery soles. I kept having these flash images of what would happen. Walk walk walk hmmm this is slippery. Slip crash slide face+pavement=pain! Yeah no, not gonna happen. Anyways, I walked up to the door and tried the handle. LOCKED. Hmmmm.... Try the other door. LOCKED. Hmmmmmm... Oh look a sign on the door, the window, and the huge sign outside the building. "Starting January 1st, the Humane Society will be closed Sundays and Mondays". MWUAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And so, if you haven't figured this out already, I still have my dog... If only for another few days. I feel like I just cheated death. That's right, I am God :)