We
had an unusual visitor last night. A
knock at our door interrupted viewing of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. We had been working to finish decorating the
Christmas tree, but even Chris was ready to just sit down for a while. It would have been the perfect time for one
of those cheesy Hallmark movies, right?
Well, here’s the thing. The whole
reason we were watching Deep Space Nine was because our TV remote died. Not battery-died, mind you … just died. Brand new batteries didn’t help. I even called up the help line on the
computer for some assistance. After
thirty minutes or so of trouble-shooting he informed me that … hold onto your
hats for this one … “Your remote appears to be broken.” Well, thank you. I told you that when I first logged in. Anyway, looks like the remote for sure and
maybe the entire box will need to be replaced.
Has anything changed since 2009?
That’s when we got the one we have.
Guess we’ll find out. The
repairman will be here Tuesday afternoon.
Between now and then? Netflix or
channel 11.
But I
digress. Back to the visitor. Since it was a lady and a child, both female,
Chris went to the door. When she didn’t
come back right away I joined her. There
was a lady and her two children and … a yorkie dog. An extremely tiny, very shaggy, very pretty,
obviously someone’s carefully tended pet yorkie dog. They had been going door to door trying to
find the dog’s owner. The daughter was
holding on tight, hoping beyond hope that the dog was not ours. Mom was just as insistent, however, that the
owner was somewhere to be found. Teenage
son didn’t appear to care one way or the other. He just wanted to do what he could to make
the problem go away so he could get home.
I decided to walk around with them a bit. We knew of one neighbor who had a dog kind of
like this one. The neighbor wasn’t home,
but his little dog met me at the front door yipping, so no luck there. The finders hadn’t had much luck,
either.
Finally
Mom decided that enough was enough. They
had to get home … to League City. They
had just been visiting when they found the little guy. But she was insistent that the dog was not going
with them. The daughter was just as
insistent that it was. She even used the
old, “But I’ve already named him. I’m
going to call him Chocolate Chip.” Didn’t
work with this Mama, though. “No. You are not naming the dog. We are not keeping the dog.” About that time, brother in the back seat
made eye contact with me. A pleading,
desperate, “help me out here” eye contact.
I guess my eyes must have revealed a softy spot, because he suddenly sat
up in his seat and declared, rather than asked, “We can leave the dog with him.” There it was.
I had been thinking this might be the inevitable end of the
evening. Mom tried to back track him
away from imposing on me. Daughter
reiterated that she wanted to take the dog home. I finally agreed to be the local
intermediary, and if no owner was found I would call and let them know. It took some doing, but the daughter finally
turned the little creature over.
Back
at the house Chris and I discussed all our options. We finally decided that the best step would
be to take him to the vet and see if he was chipped. I took a picture of him and sent it to Nathan
and April to see if Abby (their boxer)
would like a playmate. April is quite the
resourceful one. Within seconds she had
the photo up on Lost Pets of Galveston.
Seconds following that it popped up on our Gulf Village FaceBook
page. And milliseconds after that April
began getting response after response from the owner. I texted the lady and said we would walk the
dog down to their house, but she said she was already out looking for him, so
she was almost to our street anyway. We grabbed
the little sprite and started out walking.
Before we made it even halfway down our street, here came the lady we
had made contact with. And following close
behind her was the pup’s actual owner, the lady’s mother. And sure enough, when the dog saw the mother
he nearly leapt into her arms. I asked
what the dog’s name was so I could tell the family that found him. Nope. It
wasn’t Chocolate Chip. How about
Gremmy? Short for Gremlin.
I
texted the finders and let them know the owner had already been found and the little
Chocolate Chip Gremlin was safe and sound back where he belongs. I also thanked them for letting us play a
part in the rescue and return. They were
grateful to hear the news and thanked me for my help. So, thank you April. Thank you whoever that was who shared the photo
on the Gulf Village page. Social media
wins again.
Psalms
7:10 says, “My shield is God Most High, who
saves the upright in heart.”
Father,
thank you for that family who took so much time out of their schedule to search
for a home for a little lost dog. And
thank you for the successful conclusion to the story. Amen.
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