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.