On The Streets
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Dave trudged over the ill-tended sidewalk towards what he believed was another lost animal poster. A picture was usually a dead give away that it wasn’t a yard sale sign, which had tricked him many times. Occasionally a photo was a realtor, or worse yet, a memorial spot. Confronting sad reminders like this in the middle of his mission was the antithesis of what he was trying to do.
He had every social media account he could find alert him to lost animals in his current location. He had no presence himself on any of these platforms. Once he realized the power of being able to learn the moment a pet disappeared, including where and with pictures, he had sat enthralled for weeks curating accounts to keep him up to date on the Lost.
Dave had already been attempting to find Lost animals before this, through posters like the one he was currently approaching. Plus community boards at local libraries and grocery stores. He had tried his hardest to use the early internet message boards. Tried was all he managed. He had never quite been able to make sense of it all.
Now everything was neat and easy, joining groups dedicated solely to the finding of Lost animals with a tap. They were grouped, of course, by location. This assured Dave he would only be looking for the Lost that were actually nearby. He carefully took a screen shot of each lost animal. If the location wasn’t visible in the shot he would always go in and etch those details in red and the finest of lines to the photos. He then saved them to a file “the Lost”.
Dave looked through this file often, paying most attention to the newest cases. He tried his hardest to update anytime an animal was found. He was happy they were safe at home, but they didn’t need him anymore.
The poster was indeed a Lost dog, one Dave had never seen before. Her name was Ginger and she was a German shepherd and border collie mix. Dave nodded and took his notebook from his back pocket. He had seen suspicious missing posters in the last few months, huge pictures of the animal with no name and an out of state phone number. Different pictures and phone numbers, never a name. He did NOT trust these and had not since the first one he saw. What person missing a member of their family wouldn’t use their name?
Dave copied the information from the poster to a pad he had, blue Bic pressed firmly. He described Ginger in detail underneath the information. He had once considered taking a poster to have the actual picture of the animal. The thought had immediately gripped him with dread that the poster he took down would be the one that got the animal found and saved. He knew animals well enough that he trusted his written descriptions. Except when it came to cats. A lot of them were orange.
Entry complete, he looked through the few before that, reminding himself. He stuffed the notebook back in his pocket and looked around the intersection he found himself at. He realized it was drizzling, a light rain in the heat that felt identical to the moisture laden mugginess already surrounding him. The next intersection up was a main street, somewhere Dave seldom found himself. He stared at the lights at the end of the road turning from green to red. Green to red. Blink.
Dave walked up the street towards the neighborhood park. It was a small space, that whether through size or happenstance did not show up on any GPS or internet query. Entrances from the streets on either side led to a small playground, a slab of a basketball court, three swings and a small field. He always searched here first, home base.
The hot drizzle made everything hazy, though not enough to pull mist through the bushes and trees. Dave determinedly looked around, attempting to be both quiet and non-threatening. Every animal bolting on sight of him was currently a major obstacle. He knew he had to do more to be “approachable”. After all, these animals didn’t run from everyone. So, he had to be doing something wrong. He had worked at the smell angle for an embarrassingly long while before realizing that hadn’t been the issue. He’d tried: tone of voice, stance, movements and clothing. Nothing. Now he was trying to adjust his aura. He didn’t think it would actually work, he just didn’t have any other viable ideas.
Dave radiated friendliness and charm as he slowly pushed aside bushes and meandered along where the park melded with the lawns of the houses encompassing it. Most of this length was fenced, paid for by the homeowners based on their different wroughts. There were a few daring gaps where the homeowners valued access to the park over safety, and one with a door that could be (but was never) locked. He left before he could be seen.
Dave understood that his Dad was dead. He didn’t understand why his Mom wasn’t taking him to live with her. Isn’t that what Moms did? His Dad had cooked for him and hung out with him and brought him out to eat and to almost any movie he wanted to see. There had been long summer weeks on a lake, where they fished and watched the sunset and Dad drank too much. He also told Dave how much he loved him and hugged him more often in view of that water.
He didn’t know why he was in this place. His phone stopped working after his Dad died and no one got him another one. He doesn’t go on walks anymore, so he can’t look for the Lost that way. But he does have a window he can see out of, and there’s a small patch of grass near the dumpster behind the building.
Dave watches this spot unfailingly. If someone loses an animal there, he’ll be able to help.
