By Rick Smith
At first sight we were instantly alarmed.
“Oh, no,” my wife expressed with subdued panic.
There, in the middle of a busy neighborhood street, was a lost dog, and he was obviously confused and uncertain. Wandering in and out of the two lanes of traffic, cars and trucks stopped from both directions to yield.
“Oh, my God, he’s going to get hit,” my wife foresaw as her panic-tone went up a notch.
Walkers had stopped now to try to help. And a guy on a bike as well.
“Here fella,” they called. “Here boy.”
We watched as the stocky, appearing-to-be pit bull mix dog tried to respond, but would only come so far. Each time he’d get near he’d suddenly lurch away barking with apprehension. We tried to coax him our way as we continued walking our own dog.
A call to an animal rescue service was made.
An hour later, returning from our walk, we came upon the same dog again, still wandering and seemingly distressed. This time I hurried our own dog home and hustled back to see if I could help the lost one. I was armed with a leash, a pocket of treats and some water.
When I came upon him he was across the street where it bordered the open desert. My side was sidewalk. “Here boy,” I said, “come here. I’ll help you.”
He wanted to come but wouldn’t. He continued walking along the barbed wire fence and when I crossed over he ducked through and went onto the desert, settling under a tree in the shade.
Just then a car pulled up and it was Ben, a friend from the nearby park where neighborhood dogs gathered to play.
“Yeah, I just about had him a while ago,” Ben said. Ben had been out earlier and had tried unsuccessfully himself. He tried again.
“Well, hi there,” he said stepping through the barbed wire and moving inward. “Remember me? I’m that nice guy.”
The dog did respond but only to begin circling the tree while Mr. Nice Guy continued being nice. Finally, restless rover slipped back under the fence and went across to the sidewalk. Now it was my turn.
“Here boy,” I said trying to make my tone a lure. “How ’bout some treats? Would you like some water?” I gently tossed a treat in his direction but it scared him back and away.
Time ran out for both Ben and I and when we left the lost boy was back under the tree.
An hour later my wife and I departed our house for an appointment. We routed ourselves past where I’d last seen the lost dog and we discovered two cars stopped and two women out trying to help. We stopped as well and told them what we knew. They were trying to call a pit bull rescue service. The dog remained under the tree. We wished them well and moved on.
Three hours later we returned home and passed again by the dog scene. We arrived to find a Phoenix Animal Control officer writing a report in his vehicle parked alongside the desert where the dog had been.
“Did you get him?” I asked.
“Never saw him,” he replied. “I’ve driven all around for a while and there’s no sign.”
The officer said that if the dog was not being aggressive it was likely he would eventually find his way home. He sounded like he knew what he was saying.
Later my wife and I thought about all the people who had extended themselves to a lost dog looking frightened and desperate. I saw at least a dozen vehicles slow down or stop. Walkers stopped.
Bikers stopped. Others stopped before and after me.
Such is the power of a dog.
The next day Buster and I began again with another walk. To the park to play and then back
again. On the way home we met our friend Gazella and her dog Pindy.
“Did you hear?” Gazelle said. “The lost dog made it home.”
“Really? What happened?” I replied.
Gazella learned from another friend who knew the dog and where it lived that it had made it
home. Apparently the dog had a habit of wandering but always returning.
How ’bout that. A happy ending.
Dog bless us, everyone.
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