It Takes a Dog to Raise a Village

Returning from our evening walk alongside marshes and woods, we were just about back to town when we encountered a tall young man with an intense expression on his face.  It was hard to tell if he was angry or upset.  We stepped to the side of the trail to social distance and said “Hello.”  The man looked up at us and then blurted out, “Have you seen a loose dog running down here?”  We replied that we had not seen any dog during our hour long walk. 

“My dog is loose,” he exclaimed. 

“What kind of a dog?”

“A brown and white hound.”

“Okay, we’ll keep a look out,” we promised.

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“Luna.”

“What’s your address if we find her?” asked my partner.

The man told us and then hurried off. I started to call out, “Luna,” with an occasional whistle.  I had lost dogs myself and I knew what a horrible feeling it is to have lost an animal that you are responsible for.  I had also had a dog named Luna.

When we got back to our car, my partner suggested driving around town to have a look for the dog.  He used to deliver the mail and he knows all the addresses in town.  He turned down the first street, reasoning in his mind, that that is where a dog would most likely run to from the address of its owners.  Within one minute, we saw a woman with two children and a small dog on a leash standing on their front lawn.  I thought that she might have seen the dog so I put down the car window. 

Before I could ask, one of the girls said.  “Did you lose a dog?” 

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“Have you seen her?”  I asked back.

“She’s right over there,” said the girl pointing across the road. 

I jumped out of the car and started to call the dog’s name.  She was a fast hound and she was running in a confused kind of way.  I could see her on the porch of the house across the road and it looked as though she might be trapped there, so I moved in quickly.  I got within two feet of her and called her name.  She showed no response to the name or to me.  Instead, she ran out the side of the porch and headed off.

I called back to my partner who was still with the car, to go to the address of the owners and tell them where the dog was.  I knew I wasn’t going to be able to lure her to me.  Then I ran down the road but she had disappeared.  Turning a corner, I saw a woman at the end of her driveway looking in both directions.

“Did you lose your dog?”  she called.

“No, but I’m looking for her for the owner.  Which way did she go?”

The woman pointed around the next corner and up the hill. So, I walked quickly in that direction but I saw no sign of the dog.  I thought that maybe my partner had informed the owner and that she was driving around looking for me and the dog.  So, I looked carefully at every car that drove by.  After a few minutes, a white SUV with the four-way flashers on pulled over beside me.  The woman driving it spoke to me through the open passenger window. 

“Have you seen a loose dog?”  she inquired.

“Luna, right?”  I said.

“Were you close enough to see her dog tag?” asked the woman, confused as to how I knew the dog’s name.

“No, we met your partner on the trail and he told us.  I nearly caught her but she’s really fast.  The last time she was spotted, she was on this road.  She’s here,” I added trying to be reassuring.

The woman drove off down the road and I walked all the way home.  There was no sign of my partner, so I decided to stand at the four way stop across from our house.  From there, I could see four roads and maybe I would catch a glimpse of Luna.  After about ten minutes, I saw the white SUV with the four-way flashers on coming up one of the roads and my partner’s car coming up another.  My partner had the right of way and after turning the corner he stopped to let me in.  I watched the dog’s owner stop her car on the opposite corner.

“That’s the dog’s owner,” I said.

“The dog’s at home,” said my partner.

“I have to tell her,” I said as I leapt out of the car and ran across the intersection to her passenger window. 

“The dog’s at home,” I panted.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I don’t know.  I’ll ask my partner,” I said. 

Heading back to his car, I saw him getting out and walking towards me.  I introduced him to the woman and he told the story.  He had gone to her house but there was no one home.  On his way back, the original woman and kids recognized his car and waved him down.  They had managed to catch the dog and were standing there with it on a leash.  So, he had exchanged the leash for a rope he had and had driven the dog home.  Since there was no one there, he had put the dog in the garage and formed the rope into a makeshift arrow pointing to the garage. 

“Your dog is safely in your garage,” he reassured her.

The woman had her hand on her chest and her relief was palpable.

“We’ve only had her three weeks.  She is a very nervous rescue dog and she just bolted.”

We assured her that we had had dogs ourselves and we knew how it felt.  After introducing herself to us, she thanked us and drove away.

It was a nice ending to the little drama.  It is really an everyday occurrence for dogs to run away and then get found again.  But this happened during a pandemic.  All the communication had to be done at a social distance.  This involved some loud talking.  My partner said that he hadn’t been as close to another person for months as he was when he took the leash from the mother.  It was like a minor miracle that the man on the trail had bumped into us, that we went looking, people shared information and somehow, Luna, the lost hound was returned to her new home.  It felt good to take part in an old-fashioned neighbours helping neighbours story even though we didn’t know each other.  It gave me hope about our ability to solve problems together through communication and cooperation.   And it felt good to be able to do something about a problem.  And my partner’s reflection on the event was just this: “It took a dog take raise a village.”

A few days later, we saw this poster in the local post office.