So, while this post has absolutely nothing to do about being an expat, being pregnant, or being a mother, I feel compelled to tell the story just because it is a great story…and I guess I feel like a bit of a dog-mother 😉
As a man who is perpetually traveling, my husband always seems to relish his first moments back at home. After the usual kiss the wife-kiss the son-have a brief wrestle with the dog routine, he often makes his way to the local bodega (corner store) to pick up a copy of the times and any other random comforts of home that only a NYC deli can provide. So off he goes, our little dog Hastings in tow, to the local bodega.
Husband runs in for 2 minutes and ties little Hasty up outside in the usual fashion. Tons of people around, broad daylight. Husband comes out. NO HASTINGS IN SIGHT.
He asks everyone have they seen our little white dog with the crooked face?? Nope, no idea, etc etc. No one saw our dog vanish from the corner and it begins to sink in that someone else is currently basking in the warm cuddle of our little Hastings. And so the sadness begins as does our exhaustive 4 hour search of the neighborhood. Here I am, fat tears streaming down my face, my 9 month old son in the carrier, bubbling over with smiles and laughs cause he doesn’t understand what has just transpired.
Of course, no one has seen our Hasty, and if they have they certainly aren’t telling us. After nearly five hours of tearfully pacing our Brooklyn neighborhood’s small blocks, a massive thunderstorm, and two batches of fliers, we were pumped with despair that our best friend was gone, and yet feeling totally deflated. Maybe it was a drive-by dog napping, maybe Hasty was already hours away from us, learning how to love someone else. Heads hung, we began our mournful walk back home.
But, as we approach the industrial familiarity of our block, I sense the vibration of my cellphone in the front pocket of the baby carrier! Could it be the thief in search of the large reward promised on our fliers??!
EVEN BETTER… It is our groomer, who calls to tell us that hours earlier a very nervous, smarmy, dodgy character had brought Hastings in for a clean-up, and claimed it was his first time there. Of course no one can forget the crooked charming face of our Hastings– not to mention that the thief told them our dog’s name was KEVIN, LOL! While it took her a while to sort out exactly who KEVIN belonged to, she eventually found me. What luck! We dashed to the groomer’s storefront and inside, all cut and clean, acting like nothing had happened, was our darling Hastings– angry at us only for having him groomed. Poor Kevin!!!