Town helps sniff out lost pooch
By Amy van Aarem | July 12, 2007
It was impossible not to know that a dog was missing. You couldn’t travel two blocks without seeing the signs — in color — with the picture of Pookie, dimensions listed: height, weight, color, age, breed, area where she was last seen.
If that wasn’t enough to get your attention, the “$1,000 REWARD!” probably did (in English, and Spanish: Recompensa!)
An open door at the dog-sitter’s had enabled Pookie to escape. Maybe they didn’t serve the right kind of dog food at that house. Maybe the dog bed was lumpy. Maybe the water in her dish wasn’t filtered. You see, Pookie was used to the good life. Well-groomed, well-mannered, wore a designer collar, slept on a special cushion, and rang a bell when she wanted to go out for some exercise. She was a classy pooch.
I wonder how that call to her owners went. “Hi, it’s me, um, the dog walker? Funny story, actually . . . ” Imagine the owners — on vacation, relaxing, miles of sand and ocean before them. “You’re right; we didn’t misplace her; we actually lost her. Yes, I realize that is my job… watching dogs.”
That started the Pookie Alert in motion. Posters were printed and tacked to every utility pole in town, and an expert was contacted. Sherlock Bones (real name, John Keane) is a pet detective in California and, for a fee, he will consult with you over the phone; he found Goldie Hawn’s dog; surely he could find Pookie.
He recommended new posters, 750 of them, with the word REWARD in bold print. They were hung around within two hours. (This is a small town, after all.) It wasn’t long before friends, neighbors, dog enthusiasts, people with free time, kids on bikes, boards, and blades — everyone wanted to find that dog.
Some wanted the money. After all, the sum of $1,000 is a big reward. That’s decent seats at a Sox game. That’s two tickets to see the Police at Fenway. That’s one Botox injection. That’s eight pilates classes. That’s August’s rent. That’s a lot of Purina.
But some just wanted to help. If you have a pet, you understand. We pet owners are like that. We become attached. Sometimes we treat our animals better than our children. Sometimes. (Full disclosure: We have two dogs and three children; the dogs never get put in time out.)
But Pookie was nowhere to be found. A week passed. People began to suspect coyotes, perhaps a fox. The pet detective fingered a “pet thief” as perpetrator. Motive: Resell Pookie, a desirable “labradoodle ” — a cross between a labrador and a poodle — on the black market.
‘Doodles are the latest thing. Hypoallergenic and an animal that doesn’t shed, they have been scooped up left and right by watery-eyed people.
Myriad search parties, working all corners of the town, converged in nearby Bare Cove Park. Pookie reportedly had been spotted on the grounds of the South Shore Country Club, had crossed busy Fort Hill Street, and was seen hiding out in the bus yard.
Pookie’s owner, on mountain bike, was casing the graveyard when she heard the words she thought she’d never hear: Pookie has been found!
As it turns out, it was my neighbor who spotted the fussy animal, hanging out with her rascal dog, Spike, in their back yard.
“I heard this barking,” the neighbor said. “It was a strange sort of bark — so I went to the backyard and Spike had cornered something…. I was expecting to see… a skunk or something . . . but there was Pookie.” She was dirty, disheveled, and dehydrated, but otherwise fine.
Pookie went home that night to hugs all around — and a chicken dinner.
“So, what is Spike going to do with the reward money?” I asked my neighbor (knowing that no money would exchange hands, since Spike and Pookie, and their owners, are friends; in this town, dogs and kids travel in packs, and everyone knows everyone).
Apparently $1,000 buys a lot of popcorn, Spike’s favorite snack. And my neighbor also netted a copy of the movie, “The Shaggy Dog,” compliments of one very grateful dog-sitter.
The end of the story: Pookie’s owner marched in the July Fourth parade with a sign stating, “Thank You, Hingham.” It was, after all, a community sort of effort.
Tags: Lost dog, Pet Detective
