Lost and Found

When Adam and I lived in the TCU area, we developed quite a reputation for rescuing dogs. I can't even tell you how many dogs we caught and returned to their owners.
When we moved to Wedgwood, we had to give that up. One problem is that we never can catch the loose dogs, and the other problem is that we always know who they belong to. It's always the family across the street who have exactly 12 people and 1200 dogs and cats in residence.
This morning was different. Claire and Paul and I were going to go on a walk to walk our dog, Wesley Eugene, and scout for birds. Claire has a National Geographic bird guide, so we were going to identify every bird we saw.
As we were leaving, a little puppy came up to us and was jumping over Wesley. He was playful and friendly and missing his collar. I put him in the backyard for safety. I was going to take him to the pound, assuming that he belonged to our neighbor and thinking I would teach her a lesson.
I decided maybe that wouldn't be the best action, so I rang her doorbell and talked to her instead. It wasn't her dog.
So Claire and Paul and I went up and down the block ringing doorbells, asking if anyone knew the dog we had found. It was a sweet dog, and Claire named him Potatohead.
No one knew Potatohead, so we decided to go ahead and take him to the pound. I know what they do there, but it's a central location, and I was hoping the owner would call the pound to collect him.
On the way to the pound, I called Adam. He encouraged me to make flyers instead and post them around the block. So we detoured to Petsmart to buy the dog some cheap dog food so he could avoid eating Wesley's fancy stuff.
When we were checking out, I was visiting with the cashier, and she suggested I speak to the employees at the back of the store that run a dog shelter on site. I did and found out that the dog had a chip implanted in the back of his neck that told his name, his owner's name, address, and various phone numbers. So even though the dog didn't have a collar or tags, we were able to find his owners.
We returned the dog to his owners. His name is really Marley, but he also answers to "Potatohead." Apparently Marley is owned by a family with a three-year old who had been crying all morning because the dog had escaped.
It was a happy ending, and I believe an educational one for all of us. I learned that a little patience and mercy can make someone else's day. The kids learned that every animal has a home where he belongs, and home is always the best place to be.