Small Town City

So right after Shabbat last week I went over to some close friends' of mine for a few lessons on dog-sitting. They were going away for a much needed vacation in the North, and asked me to watch their dog, Simcha. I learned all the difficult tasks (like filling a water dish, putting dog food in a second dish, and taking Simcha for a walk) and then wished my friends a safe trip. Thus began my adventures. In spite of the fact that I'm not a dog-person (yes, yes, I'm a vegetarian who doesn't really like animals), nor a morning person, I actually quite enjoyed the first few days of Simcha-walking/feeding/playing.

And then came the fateful afternoon. Simcha jumped the fence he'd never jumped before and ran away. It would be an understatement to say that I freaked out. But I somehow had the wits about me to call some friends who were in the neighborhood and who had met Simcha earlier while I was walking him and they were hanging out nearby. Together and later separately they started wandering the neighborhood whistling and calling out his name. After moving his food and water dish onto the porch and leaving the fence open, I joined the search.

In different direction the three of us fanned out, asking every passerby, "Ra'it/a kelev shachor?" (Have you seen a black dog?) or some variation thereof. The responses ran the gamut from, "No, sorry," to "I've already told two of you, I saw him run that way ten minutes ago!" But as the night got darker, people seemed to get friendlier.

"I haven't seen any dogs run by. I've been sitting her for fifteen minutes and I love dogs and would have been sure to notice. Sorry. Good luck!"

"Oh no! Your dog ran away?! Well, I'm going to be walking around for the next half hour or so. If I find him, where should I bring him? Okay, and what's his name? Okay, I'll be sure to bring him to that building if I see him."

"No, I haven't seen him. But follow me, there's a hidden patch of grass between these building that dogs and cats like to go to. Maybe he's there."

From an acquaintance of a friend, "What's your phone number? I have a bike, so I'll ride around the neighborhood and call you if I see anything."

A stranger out walking her dogs, "He'll come back. Don't worry. Mine always do. But I'll keep my eye out for him right now, anyway. What's he look like exactly?"

An elderly lady on her porch, "Oh, no. The poor thing. Well, I only have my dog in my yard here, but I'll pay attention if anyone else comes by."

From a neighbor of Simcha's, "Simcha ran away?! God forbid! What can we do to help?!"

An hour and half later Simcha was back. Panting, covered in branches and leaves and flowers and sap, and slightly limping, he was happily lapping up water. As I was bringing him inside he tried to jump the fence again. But the story ends happily ever after. Simcha came home. His sore paw got better. My friends returned from their vacation. And I realized how much I love my neighborhood and all the local residents.

The End.