We knew the moment we saw her we wanted to bring her home. She was perfect: tiny deep, dark eyes that were oh so gentle; an award winning smile, tiny little feet and the thickest softest fur imaginable. She was poofy. She is the spitting image of our old Schipperke, Bogey. Cheech and I swooned. Winston wagged happily and the kids? They were in tears before we got in there.
Her name is Birdie (golf related of course!!) and she is between two and four years old. We rescued her and are ecstatic to have her with us. Although skittish with men, she carries a confidence somewhere between prude and demure. She watches Winston play and WANTS to: she perks up and sometimes follows. But she isn't there quite yet.
We haul our bundle of joy home and do our best to get her acclimated. She doesn't make a sound, just floats through the house like a tiny ghost; uncertain and afraid. As enthralled as I am, I was trying to get a dinner party together; just a small one. You know me. Well Cheech wanted to help me out and said he'd take his little girl for a walk. He paraded her out and about, talking to her, praising her...such a proud daddy. He brought her up to the back step and popped the leash with the words "In you go Punkin..."
Did you know that Schipperkes are runners? Very FAST runners if they are adults. Birdie is both of these. Cheech dashes around the house and down the street. The kids are spinning in circles like crazy tops "What what what? Where?" Cheech can't run. His bionic knee isn't so--bionic(and he's not supposed to). So he's limping at an alarming rate. The kids hop on their bikes and zoom past him. He hobbles back to the house, grabs his phone and a set of keys. I grab the other and we head in opposite directions. She doesn't know her name, she doesn't know the neighborhood, how to get home or even WHERE that IS! Oh MAN! We butt up to a couple of VERY high traffic roads and are sick to even imagine those possibilities.
I drive back in to the neighborhood and see the kids weaving and wobbling on their bikes. They can hardly ride them because they are crying so hard. I think they were shouting her name and trying to call for her but it just sounded like inconsolable sobbing shouts. "BIRRRRHERRRRRdieeeee! Huh HUh HEEERRRREEE GIRRRRRL! Puh Puh PLEEZ COME HoHoHOOOOOME" Ben pulls over to the side of the street and collapses against his bike. I'm not so sure he didn't throw up. Rich is on the phone, he is beside himself. Ben looks up and brightens "Mommy? Did you find her?" Maddie materializes and they are both panting excitedly.
Can you imagine the pain of having to tell them 'no? There is a sense of failure, guilt...My kids are hurting and I don't know if I can fix it. My eyes well up and a shaky but reassuring smile peeks through. "It's okay. We'll find her. She's here. We'll find her...." I trail off and make sure I don't promise. My chest is tight.
As I look around I see more bikes; more kids. Ben and Maddie have moved everyone they've met. There are countless neighbors trying to help us. Adults walking their own dogs are stopping me to get my cell, if our jailBird is spotted. I am amazed by the kindness of these strangers. It encourages me.
My phone goes off and it's an exasperated Cheech. He has her. She's coming home. I smile and sigh. It's a delicious feeling; truly. The kids are racing to the house. Cheech pulls in with our renegade. There are tears and laughter and hugs all around. Winston wants to know what the fuss is about and could he have treat too?
My dinner guests arrive early. I have nothing finished--or really started. I put out one of my appetizers, open some wine and we begin to laugh about our pet-scavenger hunt. My phone rings several times with concerned inquiries. I am grateful and thankful for each of them. I finally get started on dinner. I was going to roast lamb but I changed my mind.
We had peek-a-boo hot dogs.
Thanks for coming. We'll talk again soon I hope.
