Paying it Forward– Lost Dog Incident

Posted on March 27th, 2007 by Christine.
Categories: True Story.

So… if you’ve been reading my recent posts, you’ll know my car– the one that was only four days away from being traded in for a new car when the distributor went out, you’ll know I’m car-less right now. It’s not a big deal to be car-less because Christopher offered to drive me around if I needed it, and I live pretty much close to everything I need, so I can walk. And I like walking.

So this morning, I was supposed to have an appointment with my personal trainer at 8am. At 7:30, I leave my house and start the 1 mile walk to the gym. As I’m walking, I see this little gray dog with a red collar. He’s sniffing a tree and acting a little skittish. I look around and see an Asian couple walking about a block back. I assume it’s their dog and keep going.

A few minutes later, the dog runs up next to me, paces me a few steps and then runs ahead and starts sniffing around. He’s acting sort of frantic and strange. I look back at the couple, but they’ve turned and walked down another street. Realizing it’s obviously not their dog, I look around for someone else. There’s no one. I call the dog. He doesn’t come. I figure oh well and keep walking.

The dog is starting to act even more bizarre… walking in circles, wandering into the street, sniffing everything. Then he runs back toward me. I call him again and he comes up to me, but won’t let me touch him. Runs off as soon as I bend over. I watch him for the next block and see him run into the street just as a silver car comes around the corner.

I stop– praying I’m not going to see this dog get hit. The driver saw the dog. She stops in the middle of the street. The dog stands in front of the car watching her. I call the dog. He starts to come. The driver sneers at me thinking I’m an irresponsible dog owner.

It happens a second time with a second car. The dog runs behind the car. Another sneer. The lady drives off. The dog gets close to me but won’t let me touch it.

I keep walking until I reach a major thoroughfare (6 lanes). The dog runs in front of me then steps onto this street. I panic. The dog will not survive even a minute if he moves even another foot into the close lane. The cars fly over the hill toward this intersection.

I sit down on the sidewalk, tap the ground, and yell in my funnest, most playful voice, “Come here baby, come here doggie, doggie!”
The dog runs over to me, lies down next to me and lets me rub his belly. I do. Then I grab his collar and stand up. Damn. What now? I have no cell phone. I’m half a mile from my apartment. The dog has a collar but no tags and is obviously not used to being out and doesn’t know where he is. The dog, suddenly happy, sits on my feet and leans against my legs, liking being close to me. I realize I’m committed to making sure this dog is okay now. Hell… I was pretty much committed the moment I saw him, it just took me a few blocks to realize it.

I think. Devise a plan. I will ask one of the people who live in the neighborhood with a fenced yard to keep the dog. I’ll go to the gym and use the phone there to call Animal Control.

I hold his little collar and walk him across the street. I’m practically bent over trying to guide him because he’s so short. I go to the first house. The car is in the drive. I ring the bell. I hear them inside. They don’t answer. I’m sure a 130 lb white girl in her gym clothes with a water bottle and a dog is too intimidating to open the door. Screw ‘em.

On to the next house. No car in the drive. Figure they’re not home. Try anyway. Nope… not home.

Next house. Asian woman answers. Doesn’t speak English. Yells in Chinese to someone else in the house. Her 40 year old daughter comes out. I explain the situation. She says she can’t put the dog in her yard because she’s going to work. I make a short argument trying to change her mind. She says no but to try her neighbor. I give her a look that should make her feel guilty for years to come and lead the dog away.

Leading the dog a foot off the ground is hurting my back. I have no idea how many more houses I’ll have to try. I pick the dog up, hoping he doesn’t bite my face off or something. He snuggles against my neck. Dammit… doesn’t anyone care to help a dog anymore?

As I’m walking across the street to house #4, I’m getting angry that no one in their cars stopped to pick up this dog. Chinese woman didn’t feel any responsibility to help this poor, defenseless little guy. House #1– a-holes– wouldn’t even open the door. No one has any accountability anymore. All I could think about is if this were my little Meisha, I would hope to God someone would take a few minutes (even if it meant being late to work, or having to leave a note on your gate for animal control to go on into your back yard) and corral her to make sure she didn’t get hurt.

This is someone’s dog… someone’s life could change drastically simply because no one stopped to help it. As I’m getting even more worked up, I reach house #4 expecting to be turned down.

A little old lady in rollers and a house coat comes to the door. I explain the situation. She says, “Okay. I’ll open the gate.”

A few minutes later the gate opens. I set the dog down and he runs into her back yard. She sees I’m wearing USC sweatpants. She says “Oh you went to USC!” I nod and dust the dog hair off my sweatshirt that reads, “Nebraska.” “And Nebraska” I say.

She smiles. “I’m from Nebraska,” the little lady says. “Me too,” I say. “Where you from?” She tells me what city she’s from– one I recognize but was in western Nebraska– far from where I grew up. “I’m from Lincoln” I say. “I think he would have died,” I tell her referring to the dog who has now disappeared completely into her backyard. I assure her I’ll remember her address and call Animal Control once I get to the gym. She tells me that people tend to come around knocking when they’re looking for their dogs, so hopefully the owner will come by first.

I thank her and hurry on toward the gym that has no internet access and no phone book. I tell my trainer the story and he hands me his cell phone and I call 411 to get the Animal control number. I repeat my story again to Animal Control and the guy tells me he’ll put it on the list for today and get the little dog home safe.

I go work out. Lucky for that little dog that the distributor went out on my car. If it hadn’t, I might have decided to drive to the gym instead of walk. And I wouldn’t have left at 7:30, I would’ve left at 7:55. And by 7:55, I don’t know if that little dog would still be with us.

I don’t get to make a difference in someone’s life all that often, but today I think I did, so today is a good day.

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