Small Loving
Mystery Dog Wandering in Wilmington
Crosses Major Boulevard and Finds Me
By Diana L.
Chapman
Driving to
Wilmington recently on a cold morning, I got off the Anaheim Avenue exit from
the 110 Freeway and my eyes immediately fell on a tiny terrier, smaller than
some cats, trotting along the street.
The munchkin
couldn't of weighed more than ten pounds and kept looking back at a man walking
another dog on its leash.
I had two
minutes to get to Gulf Street Elementary for a writer's workshop so I concluded
(to make myself feel better) that the little beast belonged to the man. After
all, she kept looking back at him -- lovingly.
I dismissed
it from my brain's archives. But life plays tricks on us in mysterious ways and
nothing is ever what it seems. As soon as I abandoned any thoughts of rescuing
the little gal some shifting in the universe must have taken place.
After a
great workshop, I walked out the school doors and was astounded to find her
sitting there. She would have crossed Wilmington Boulevard, an artery often
clogged with semi-trucks and piles of traffic around the hustling Los Angeles port.
She too must have wandered through other busy residential areas hemmed in with
apartments and homes.
I was surprised
she had made it here to this school in one piece at all and was also bemused by
the coincidence.
"Oh,
sweetie, what are you doing here?" I said. She immediately wiggled over,
this wiry haired looking terrier, rolled on her back and waited for me to pet
her tummy. That wasn't something I couldn't resist.
The moment I
saw her at the school, I decided she was coming home with me for safety reasons
alone while knowing my family of two dogs, one son, and one husband were going
to be furious.
But I had no choice. To leave a small dog that was basically acting
like a baby and trusting everyone and anybody wouldn't live long on the streets
-- just from sheer volumes of traffic alone. As we left, I watched her whimper
out the window looking for something or someone. She cried and cried.
Before I
could mix her with my dogs, I raced her to the vet who -- and I agreed --
assessed that she was well cared for. She had no fleas, seemed well groomed as
much a wiry haired dog can be -- and was so loving and affectionate that it
seemed virtually impossible that she hadn't had a loving owner. She also had a
microchip, but it had not been registered. Dead end there.
While many
stray dogs roam Wilmington streets, this wasn't
the norm. The vet gave her a clean bill of health and I headed home to
my two-pack dogs who always act silly when anyone arrives barking and leaping
up like a frenzied lightning storm. They were doing their usual craziness as I
walked in, but then realized something was in my arms.
They stopped. Looked.
And then began to gruffly bark and surround us with even more over-the-top enthusiasm.
She was terrorized. To her, my dogs, while not that big, must have seemed like
giants. Boo and Baxter, while a bit peeved, seemed to realize we had a guest
for awhile and let her settle in.
The next
round was with my human family, my husband and son, both of whom already told
me on the phone they were angry that I thrust another animal in our lives of an
already crowded house. That was before they met her. Their sentiments were about
to change.
The first
test was Ryan, the 19-year-old son. He walked in the door, took one look, at
the quivering canine, scooped her up and instantly adored her.
Later, when my
husband walked in, I braced for more anger. Instead, the little one raced to
the door to greet him with a wagging tail. Once he spotted her, I could see his face melt
with kindness. He agreed she couldn't have stayed on the mean streets of
sprawling Los Angeles. Last April, police found two beheaded dogs, a chocolate Labrador
and German Shepherd, in a trash can in South Los Angeles, a disturbing and gruesome
cruelty one top official called "despicable."
I was so
outraged over that act and did a story to alert readers. A $20,000 reward was offered to snatch the culprits. How could I possibly
leave this loving baby to wander into who knows what?
Now --
currently serving as her foster family, we have given our little one, who likes
to sit quietly in my lap for as long as possible, the following names: Lulu,
Adele, Little Girl, Pumpkin Baby Girl and No Name. We will be on a search for those who loved
her and possibly lost her. A teacher from the elementary school has promised to
look at lost dog signs. I will too.
Because it's
not possible that in our crazy world which so often treats animals as
disposable garbage that someone didn't love this mysterious little girl.
Please share
this post.
I can be
reached at hartchap@cox.net.
