Rodger, Dodger!

Animals are just the best--that's a fact.

Yesterday afternoon, while enjoying an iced beverage at Barnes & Noble, Don and I were reflecting on our animania week and greatly missing Linus' presence and energy on the block. I proffered that I wondered how long it would be before our new canine family member made itself known. It was simultaneously that Don noticed over my shoulder the new book I had just purchased, Animals Make Us Human: Creating the Best Life for Animals by Temple Grandin and Catherine Johnson. We both smiled.

Our day was full and it had been quite warm so we postponed our walk till the evening after dinner. My pragmatism kicked in and I thought that instead of mailing a letter to a nearby business, we could walk there instead and drop it off. As we were walking down the block, something nudged me and I back-tracked to return our house to get my pocket flashlight. While inside the house, I took note that I also picked up my reading glasses and hung them on my shirt. (At the time, that made no sense but I really do attempt to trust my intuition and cosmic nudges.)

We were engaged in lively conversation while crossing the bridge and Don told me to take a look and he motioned behind me. Smiling and trotting along side us trying to catch up was a beautiful yellow Labrador retriever dog. I bent down to say hello and give a scritch. She immediately sat down and offered her paw. It was then that I ascertained it was a female dog, probably at least four years old and looked like she might have even had a litter at some point. It became clear very quickly that she was not supposed to be where she was and was eager to join us and not interested in walking back in the direction from whence we came.

By now it was dark and Don flanked us the side of the street with the traffic and I sat down on the sidewalk to read her tag. It was then that I understood why I had gone back for both the flashlight and my glasses.
"Dodger."

Don called the phone number and left a message that we had found Dodger and to please give us a call. In the meantime, a very sweet Hispanic woman and her daughter drove by and asked us a question we couldn't understand. Moments later, she pulled over because she thought she recognized the dog as belonging to one of her neighbors. I was so taken by the friendliness of this family (and several other folks who drove by and stopped to ask if everything and everyone was all right). Another woman must have driven around the corner and parked and walked over to see if she could help. I explained that Dodger was a bit lost and we were attempting to call her owners and I knew she would understand because her T-shirt told me she was an animal lover too: "You had me at Woof"!

Don walked ahead to deliver my letter. I stayed with Dodger because she was beginning to wander into the street. I pulled her over to the side where the lady had parked her van and using my best MacGyver instincts, I asked if she might have some rope or even a belt I could use as a temporary leash. Indeed they did. It seems that Isabelle, the daughter had a belt in the back seat that she didn't like very much because it was scalloped and metallic and it made her itch. So, Carmen and I hooked it onto Dodger's collar and we talked while we waited for Don to return or the phone to ring.

It turns out that Carmen and her husband were from Vista (north of San Diego) but had also moved to Chico to finish school but chose to stay. Isabelle noted how friendly and smart Dodger is to offer her paw and sit so calmly. Carmen casually remarked that earlier as they were driving over here, they had seen some fireworks over the other side of the bridge. That's when I knew immediately that Dodger also must have heard the fireworks which would explain her confusion and she probably got out an unlocked gate. ( I once had a golden retriever, Molly Brown, that had the same anxiety issue every July 4th). Carmen pointed in the direction of the fireworks and where she saw Dodger cross the street.

We thanked them both and offered to return the belt but Isabelle was quite happy to donate it to this worthy cause. Don and I set off across the street up the block to see if we could let Dodger show us where she lived. It was a very dark street and no sidewalk on one side so we were not having much luck even with the few people we saw as went along. At that point, we knew we would have to walk her home and back to our house and wait for a call from her people.

Dodger was very smart and knew some basic commands but I could tell she was not leash trained. She is also quite sizable (picture Marley) so I ended up having Don walk her on the short, scalloped leash and I walked ahead shining the flashlight so they could see their way.

We arrived at the corner of East and Mariposa when I heard Don's cell phone. I took Dodger and he moved away from the street to talk. Happily, it was Dodger's 'dad' and they were on their way to get her. I sat down on the curb with Dodger. Her happy tongue hanging out to the side probably from thirst, she gave me a few dry kisses and extended her paw. I gave her lots of scritches and rubs and praise for being such a wonderful companion on our walk.

When DodgerDad arrived in his big pick-up track he loaded her into the back. He was thankful for our finding her and calling him but I could tell he seemed almost embarrassed. He thanked us again and I hollered out a "thank you for having a tag on her" and we went on our way.

Don looked at me bemused, "Why are you crying? We did a good thing." Yes, we did.
I wasn't crying about that. I was crying in amazement and appreciation of our animal friends in this world we share. I was grateful for the fact that we had dallied and postponed our walk till the last minute; that I trusted the instinct to get my glasses and flashlight that we ended up needing for our rescue operation; that Linus had stirred up my animalia passion and communication so that Don and I could be available for this adventure.

Being with animals can be so deeply enriching and enlightening and yet, sometimes I get so humanly distracted that I overlook their magnificence and lapse into treating them as 'fur candy'.

And then I remembered that this was the anniversary of the passing of my puppy Wunjo. Wunjo is the reason I went back into ministerial school and in our brief eight months together, it was he who taught me everything about how to communicate, be with and honor animals. By the way, Wunjo was a yellow Lab, too.

Rodger, Dodger--over and out.