New job search: week two

Has it really been another whole week already?
Oy.

Applications sent out: 0
Interesting job prospects: 0

Ok, so I haven't really been looking. I've been thinking, a bit, and the problem is that for any possible job, it's just entirely too easy to reach an imagined point of saturation, then ennui, then desperation. I know, I know: that's why they call it work. Thing is, I've got that now, but I've also got a better salary than I'm likely to find with my skillset elsewhere. If I'm losing that, I want a pretty good assurance that I'm doing more than just buying a year's relief from desperation.

The only two employment areas that don't seem to quickly lead down the garden path to perdition are: (1) a small subset of self-employment, and (2) creative writing, either as self-employment or in conjunction with high school or college teaching of same. So, then. I'm taking the week after next week off, not really going anywhere (maybe the Eastern Shore the last weekend, but only if I'm good), and taking a running leap at a first stab (so to speak) of a writing sample for an MFA application. If that fails abjectly, which I think is a reasonably high chance, then and only then will I approach the want ads with renewed vigor.

A propos of nothing, do you know anyone who's lost a Chihuahua? No? Would you like a Chihuahua?

Long story short, K and I were kayaking on the Anacostia river on Saturday and noticed a yapping, howling, and otherwise forlorn dog on the bank, under the freeway bridge, on a steep and trail-less hillside amid the trash heaps and detritus from both the freeway and river (the Anacostia really is kind of disgusting). It was a strange place for a dog to be, as there are no residential areas near that spot and no roads except the freeway. We beached the boat and investigated, but the dog wouldn't let us near it. After we returned to the marina, we tried to drive over the freeway bridge and intended to park and try again, but there was nowhere to pull over and it was getting dark.

On Sunday morning, we decided to return, armed with a can of Alpo and a pet carrier. The pup was in exactly the same place, and still howling and jumping in fright every time a truck went over the bridge. Over the course of a frustrating three hours, the dog would come closer -- even accept food from our hand -- and then bolt, howling, if we made a move. Eventually, we were able to use a trail of food to lure it far enough into the carrier that we were able to push it in and close the door. Amazingly, once captured, the dog underwent a complete personality change and rode in alert and interested silence as we paddled half an hour back to the marina. Once on shore, he trotted along docilely on a leash, returned to the carrier without protest, and seemed to enjoy the car ride.

Bringing him in the apartment was a non-starter -- I have never, ever, seen the cat arch up that big -- and our small concrete balcony offers no shade. Luckily, a friend with a yard agreed to foster him while we figure out what to do. With some food and water, he further transformed into an affectionate and sweet pup, radiating joy despite his river rash, abrasions, and emaciation. (Also extremely trusting: I couldn't believe that the same animal that was mere hours earlier fleeing if I looked at him was now letting us remove ticks from his inner ear with tweezers, but, me, I'm used to cats.)

I've put an ad on Craigslist and have registered him with the National Lost and Found Database. K will take him to get scanned for a microchip tomorrow. Anyone have any other suggestions for finding his owner? My own dark view of human nature combined with the freeway-proximate and otherwise remote area we found him in, combined with his attentive personality and willingness to stay close even while off the leash, makes me suspect he was not accidentally lost. Thus, we're also canvassing for prospective new owners. Takers?