Come Home, Odie

Saturday night about nine-thirty we heard a young guy walking down our street, whistling and calling for a dog. It was dark and we knew immediately that his dog was missing. We went outside and asked him what had happened and he said his dog had been missing since noon. Having once lost a dog we knew the panic he was feeling.

We hopped in the car and drove around the neighborhood helping neighbors we never met from a few blocks over, look for their dog. We were unsuccessful.

Both Ali and I were kind of heartsick but we were both painfully aware that our heartache was inconsequential compared to theirs. We heard them until midnight, up and down the street quietly calling, "Odie. . .come home Odie."

Sunday morning, barely past daybreak I heard a familiar sound that nearly broke my heart. The same young man, now on his bicycle, pedaling down our street quietly squeezing Odie's favorite squeeky toy, calling to him from wherever he might be hiding. As of now, Odie hasn't come home. I walked all the alleys of Hurd Avenue several times today and Ali rode her bike for miles, looking for a tiny little Daschund named Odie who is seriously, wholly loved.

Come on home, Odie boy. Your family really misses you.