Of all the scenarios I imagined, this one came COMPLETELY out of left field

It was Thanksgiving night. My dad's girlfriend came inside the house and woke my dad, who was sleeping on the couch. She was trying to tell him something about Ringo, his dog. She told Dad that it sounded like Ringo had been attacked. She heard him make strange noises, and then it sounded like something attacked him. "Whatever it was, it was big," she said. Then she heard Ringo whining.

I ran to the bedroom to grab my coat as my dad, still out of it from his nap, tried to process what his girlfriend was telling him.

I ran out of the house, outside the gate, and down the long driveway to the street. I called Ringo's name the whole way, but I never heard a sound -- no footsteps on the gravel, no barking, no whining.

I got to the end of the driveway and tried to decide which direction to go on the road. A car was heading toward me from the right. It slowed and moved to one side of the road. I headed that way, calling Ringo's name again.

My dad and his girlfriend live out in the country, so there are no streetlights. I couldn't see a thing. Luckily, another car soon headed my direction. Just as I heard my dad start his pickup to head our way, I saw through the headlights of the oncoming car the silhouette of two dogs standing in the middle of the road.

I ran toward the dogs, waving my arms to warn the approaching car. I didn't want the driver to wreck in an attempt to avoid hitting them or watch the dogs get hit right in front of me. The car slowed, and I noticed Ringo seemed to be limping. He was definitely hurt.

Just as I reached the dogs, my dad pulled up in his truck. For some reason, the second dog was sticking very close to Ringo, like it had no choice.

Then I realize it didn't. The dogs were somehow stuck together, end to end.

I tilted my head to the side and tried to figure out what had happened. How could their legs be caught? Or were their tails twisted together (but how could that happen?)? What could have ...

Oooooooh ...

My dad started laughing and told me to wave the other car on by us. He immediately called my grandpa to find out how to ... ahem ... separate the dogs safely. Evidently the solution was a bucket of water.

My dad headed back to the house, and moments later, his girlfriend came down the driveway, carrying a bucket. She didn't want to be the one to douse the dogs, so I did. It worked.

The other dog, who -- rightfully so -- seemed pretty upset about the whole thing, immediately bolted down the road when she realized she was free.

Ringo, though ... Poor Ringo. He was bleeding, and he seemed to be in pain. We tried to get him to follow us back to the house, but he was more interested in checking on his manhood than paying attention to us. I wondered if we'd have to take him to the vet.

Somehow, though, after just a minute or two, Ringo seemed to be back to normal. In a split second, he seemed to forget his pain. We watched incredulously as he bolted off, disappearing in the direction his lady friend had gone just moments before.

Short-term memory. One-track mind.

Typical male.