The Puppy Who Lost His Way

It's raining outside right now. It's very quiet inside. Tim's at class. Weston's in bed. I'm baking cornbread for tomorrow's cornbread stuffing. And I have a doggy story to share.

During my walks around the neighborhood, I see a lot of dogs, most of which are behind fences or on leashes with their owners. Perhaps because there are so many dogs in my neighborhood, I also see a lot of "Lost Dog" signs, which I always stop to look at, so that I can memorize the dog's face and keep my eyes peeled for it, just in case.

A few weeks ago while on a sunny morning walk, I noticed a couple of large, friendly-looking dogs across the street. They were going from yard to yard, sniffing the bushes, running around, moving on to the next yard. I wasn't sure if they were lost, or if they'd just gotten out of their gate and were going home or something. They didn't look particularly distressed. I stopped and watched them for a little while, but ultimately kept going.

Two days later, I saw a "Lost Dog" sign on a telephone pole... with a picture of one of those dogs. ARGH! I was kicking myself all day that day. I even considered calling the number and telling them that I'd seen their dog two days earlier, if that would help. (I didn't, because I thought that might be weird, and potentially saddening.) But I made a new commitment to pay better attention to lost pets and no longer miss opportunities like that to help out.

Fast forward to yesterday evening, when I was out on a walk again. A few blocks from my house, it happened. I saw another dog. This one was clearly lost -- it was walking slowly, almost limping, and it was sniffing all around and wandering in and out of the street. It looked calm, not aggressive, but perhaps slightly confused.

So, I made good on my new commitment. I followed that dog around for probably 20 minutes, all the while pushing Weston in the stroller. I kept trying to get her to come towards me so that I could read her collar. A few times she approached me and then backed off. One time she approached me and actually let me pet her, but I didn't want to scare her by reaching under her neck for the collar tag too suddenly. So I lost her again.

Finally, I approached and managed to see her tag -- Jamie was her name. Then I was able to call her: "Jamie! C'mere Jamie! Jamie! Want to go home?? Come here, Jamie! Jamie!!" It was sort of working, but not really. She kept wandering away (into yards, into the street, down the sidewalk, etc.), sniffing all around, while I kept following her and calling to her. I kicked myself for not bringing my cell phone along, because I had no idea how I was going to get Jamie to follow me home. But I had to figure out a way. Time was passing and it was getting dark. I was still following her around. All of these ideas and strategies were running through my head, and at the same time I was wheeling Weston all over the place in the stroller after Jamie, trying to coax her to me again, and trying to get her to come with me. All of this was happening when a man in his driveway across the street called Jamie, and she went trotting off towards him.

Hmm.

I ran away as quickly as I could with a stroller. The guy had probably decided that he didn't actually want me to steal his dog.

Maybe I was a little too gung-ho about that commitment. But you could argue that Jamie made it home safely after all. :-)