Nyla, a.k.a "Chimmy"
We were circled around the chimnea in the driveway last night, mesmerized by its flames and enjoying the chat with our neighbors. A man walked down the street with a dog on a leash, which is certainly nothing new as it happens all the time in my neighborhood. When he walked up our driveway, though, our curiosity was raised.
“Anybody know where this dog lives?” he cheerfully asked.
It was dark but I recognized him. “Hi!” I said. “Aren’t you the guy who lives down Edmund Street? With the beagle?”
“Yep, that’s me,” he grinned and gave his name as John.
“Ah, so what’s the story with this dog?”
He told us he found it in his yard. With a little cajoling he had managed to put a leash on it and then set out to find its owners.
He brought it over to the floodlight and I snapped a camera phone picture of a beautiful female boxer. She was so sweet and friendly, just a gentle beast. She had to be someone’s pet.
John explained that having a beagle and no fenced backyard made it difficult for him to keep the boxer. While we already have a dog, I figured we could juggle spaces and maybe hold on to the boxer long enough to find its owners.
John left to fetch an extra leash. I went inside to post the camera photo to the neighborhood mailing lists and my Facebook page. I figured an hour or two would be all it took for the dog’s owner to speak up.
Ten-thirty rolled around and still there was no response to my postings. The boxer was in our backyard and acting restless. Our dog and the boxer had squared off earlier on either side of our back door, making it impossible to have them in one place at the same time.
A rumble of thunder (or rail cars in the train yard, I’m not sure which) prompted me to put bedtime aside and come up with better sleeping arrangements for our new friend. I fetched our dog’s travel crate from the attic and assembled it in the garage. Then I led the boxer by the leash out of the backyard and into the crate. She didn’t even put up much of a fight getting into the crate. With her settled in the garage and our dog settled inside, I climbed into bed and called it a night.
This morning brought more challenges. I couldn’t leave this strange dog in a crate all day long while I worked, at least not without a good walk first. Feeding and caring for two dogs that must be kept separated, and doing so in a timely manner when you yourself have things to do, can be very challenging! I felt lucky that I got to work only 20 minutes later than I anticipated.
I left work 30 minutes earlier than normal so I had time to take the boxer into the vet. If she had a microchip identification we would know right away where to return her. The vet scanned her for a few minutes but came up empty. The vet quickly looked the dog over. Her guess about the dog? Aged 5-6 years and apparently not spayed.
After picking up the kids from school, I thought of trying to introduce the dogs to each other as life would be much easier if I didn’t have to keep them separate. As I considered letting our dog out to meet the boxer, Travis expressed strong reservations for doing that.
Sure enough, with the door cracked enough for muzzles to poke through, a fierce barking exchange took place. I opted to let our dog out on the screened porch and was stunned by the aggressiveness shown by this boxer. “Chimnea,” or “Chimmy” as we’d named her, was snapping viciously at the screen separating her from our poor Labrador. Disappointed, I declared that Chimmy’s days with us were numbered.
This afternoon I whipped up some flyers and put them up around the neighborhood. At the local dog park, I placed one in the bulletin board and even chalked a message on the pavement in front of the entrance.
I had just finished tracking down a number of boxer rescue organizations when we got a phone call from a dog park patron. She and her friend had talked earlier to a distraught woman who was searching for her lost boxer. The women had only now seen my flyer and only knew the woman’s first name, the street she lived on, and the type of car she drove.
I thanked my tipster and did some sleuthing. I turned to the Wake County Property records to see the names of all the homeowners on the street.
Bingo! One woman with that name lived very close to the spot where the boxer was found! This had to be it. I felt so confident that I loaded Chimmy into the van. The kids joined us, not wanting to miss seeing Chimmy safely returned. When I drove up to her home, I was relieved to see exactly the car that was described to me.
With the dog at my side, I rang the doorbell. No response. I rang it again and then knocked.
“Just a minute,” I heard inside. A few moments later, the door opened and a woman looked out.
“Mrs. Jones?” I asked. She nodded.
“Are you missing a dog?”
“There you are,” she said quietly, smiling as she walked up to her dog.
For a moment there was silence. Slowly I realized she was weeping with joy. She gently took off her glasses and dabbed the tears in her eyes. I didn’t know what to say.
She explained that her son had been taking care of her dog while she was away on a cruise. At some point the dog got loose and Mrs. Jones returned from her trip to find her companion of 10 years was missing.
She repeatedly shook my hand as I explained how we’d taken care of her dog over the last night. I learned the dog’s name is Nyla.
As I made my way to go, the kids were clamoring to come say goodbye to Nyla. With Mrs. Jones’s blessing, the kids scrambled out of the minivan and gave Nyla one last pet.
“Thank you for taking good care of my dog,” Mrs. Jones told each of them in turn. The kids were beaming and so was Mrs. Jones.
What a great feeling it was to have helped out a neighbor in need. What a great lesson our kids learned again about the value of helping others. I hope they always remember this feeling of helping others and continue to look for every opportunity to lend a hand.