Dog for a Day

Spring has arrived and I stood at my window staring at my lawn planning my strategy for the first mowing of the year. In the corner where the two privacy fences met I saw a straw colored pile. I thought to myself that either someone dumper a double handful of hay over the fence or there was a dog in my yard. It was at that moment it flopped over and leapt to its feet.

I went outside to investigate. It was a small dog, the standard seven or eight pound dust mop, yappy dog. But it wasn’t yapping. It sat in the small dust bed it had made and looked at me warily. I could see a large wound on its side. The poor thing seemed dehydrated. I approached cautiously, speaking softly. In the back of my mind I was wondering if I should go get gloves, but my concern for the animal overrode my fears.

She was a sweet puppy. She let me pet her without a single growl, yap, or any other reaction. She also didn’t wag her tail or lean into being pet. I guess this traumatic event in her life left her docile, but not timid. I picked her up. She had a color but no tags, and looked well cared for. The injury was shaved, and recently, so I knew someone cared for this lost soul. I brought her to my back porch, gave her water and some dry cat food. I know cat food is not the best thing for dogs, but this was the less active sort of food and it was all I had. I left her to eat as I decided what to do with her. She ate and drank without wolfing it down, then she laid down outside my door in the shade and relaxed.

I fetched my cat carrier. I have two cats, and the larger one is about eighteen pounds, so his was fine for her. I popped her into it and decided to check with all my neighbors, including the ones on the street behind me, in case she just wandered off. After making the rounds and meeting four or five new people in my quest to find her owner, I returned to my home. I was no further along than when I started. I called my local grocery store where the young lady was kind enough to check the community bulletin board for lost dog ads. No luck there either.  I took photos and sent them to my brother’s wife, who had worked at a vet’s office for over a decade. She said the dog looked like a Yorkie, or a Silky, and the injury looked like a surgical site.

It was getting late, and I didn’t think I would have any luck searching after dark. Instead, I bathed her and fed her again. She took to it well. She didn’t want a bath, but she stoically stood there as I washed her and check her for any further injuries. Afterwards she ate and drank a bit more and I returned her to the carrier. She slept there all night without a peep. My cats on the other hand, hardly slept a wink. The poor paranoid pussy cats were vigilant of every noise in the house all night.

In the morning I let her out to do her business, which she did. Then she enjoyed a good roll in the grass that had gone uncut the previous day. While she did that I called Petco. The young lady who answered the phone, Beth, was kind enough to check their board for lost dog notices. No luck there either. She suggested I call a vet and see if I could have her scanned for a microchip. I asked where the closest vet was, and she informed me that there was one right next to her store, and gave me their number. One phone call later and me and the castaway canine were off to visit the vet.

When I arrived I was greeting with a friendly face of a young lady. I asked if she was ready to scan a dog, and she asked to see the pooch first. I opened the carrier door, and the girl’s face lit up! “It’s Missy!” she cried. The dog had been in their two days earlier for her skin condition, which was why she was shaved. The collar had been bought by the owner’s teenage daughters while they waited. It seems Missy was going home. She asked for my phone number in case the owners wanted to contact me. I almost refused, but after making it clear I didn’t want a reward I said they could call me if they had any questions about her harrowing experience.

My point to all this is, tag your dog. I know it is a small dog, or an inside dog, or whatever. But you never know. And poor Missy ran away after her vet visit and found my yard. It was a cold couple of nights, and she had no water or food. She could have died from exposure, starvation, hit by a car, plucked up by a hungry hawk, or abducted by aliens. There are dozens of scenarios this dog could have faced instead of being taken in by an animal lover. I know how important our pets are to us. They give us unconditional love, and support us without words in our darkest moments, and share our brightest joy with us. They dance when we come home, and wait for us when we go away. So, let’s do the small kindness to them, and make sure they can find their way home if they ever do get lost. Tag your pet.