November 06, 2004
A good ending to a bad week

On Thursday, while driving home from work, I spotted a little black Dachshund wandering on the street a couple blocks from my house. My dog Harry came to me eight years ago after being found on the street by a friend of my then-boss. I always wondered if the people he once lived with - and it was clear he'd been someone's pet, as he was well cared for and housebroken when I got him - looked for him and mourned his loss. Since then, I've always been vigilant about apparently lost dogs. So I pulled over.

The dog, a female, came to me when I called her. She had no collar. I looked at the house I found her in front of, but no one appeared to be home. Two women walking nearby didn't know her. So I loaded her in my car and brought her home. Which involved some logistical jujitsu, since Harry doesn't like other dogs, and me nearly losing her inside my house (who knew a dachshund could climb stairs?), but it worked out in the end. We posted a "found dog" note on our neighborhood chat line, and settled her in our garage apartment.

I took her for a walk later that night to see if she'd lead me to a house that was familiar to her. We wandered around but never really went in a definitive direction. Along the way, I learned about a dachshund owner a block from where I found her. I knocked on the door and discovered his dog was safely at home with him. Nice try, but no luck.

On Friday, armed with a couple of new leads from the chat line, I loaded the dog in my car and started out with a trip to the vet. My hope was that she had one of those doggy ID chips implanted. No such luck. The other dachshund owner I was alerted to, three blocks from where I found her, was also not missing any dogs. It looked like I was going to have to take some pictures, print "found dog" flyers, and post them in the area.

Thankfully, I got lucky. I finished some other errands I had to run, then as I was driving back, I saw a car pulling into the driveway of the house where I first found her. I rolled my window down and asked "Have you lost a little black female dachshund?" Turned out the woman and her little boy were just getting back after posting a bunch of "lost dog" flyers. I led them to my house, and a happy reunion ensued. Reba, who I was told got her name from a B-52s song, was back in her mommy's arms.

On balance, this week has sucked. That went a long way towards making me feel better. Here's to you, Reba, and the less-easily-removed collar that's in your future.

Posted by Charles Kuffner on November 06, 2004 to See, I do have a life! | TrackBack

Tim and I took care of a cat for a few days after it got out and found its way to the screen on our bedroom window at 6 a.m. on a rainy Sunday. Taking care of him for 5 days, until he was claimed, convinced Tim that he did actually like cats. We'd started talking names by the time he was claimed by his owner, so we asked his name, which was Sammy.

A few months later, we headed to the Humane Society to find a cat of our own. While walking through the cat area, we found a 3-year old tabby and decided she was our cat. Her name was Sammy.

Posted by: Sue on November 6, 2004 9:31 AM

Good man! Thank you for doing that.

Posted by: Rob Booth (Slightly Rough) on November 6, 2004 11:30 AM

What a good story! Thanks for sharing.

Posted by: Anne on November 6, 2004 11:57 AM

Good on yer, mate. The chip implant should also be in the pooch's future, too.

Posted by: Linkmeister on November 6, 2004 2:28 PM

Stories like this are just too cool! :-)

Posted by: William Hughes on November 6, 2004 5:49 PM