Theo, it appears, is not only energetic and adorable but also very very clever. Yesterday, when the plumber who my contractor Nick hired to outfit my new bathroom inadvertently left the gate to our new fence open, Theo hustled up his buddy, Hunter, his tall thin theoretically more mature friend (Nick's girlfriend's dog who spends most days calmly pacing our yard while Nick works) and the two of them escaped onto the streets of Portland. Truthfully, it could have been Hunter leading the way -- he lives a few blocks in one direction of our house and his "mom" works a few blocks the other way -- perhaps he just wanted to go home, and Theo would have been happy to sign up for the adventure. In any case, I can just see Theo's gleeful little face, tongue wagging, paws bouncing down the sidewalk, his pal Hunter at his side, with nary a look back to Grandma, aka me, working away, entirely clueless that her little baby was off, exposed to the dangers of the city.
I'm not sure how long they were gone -- probably just a few minutes -- before the plumber walked through my front door, which was open to the yard, and said, "Are the dogs in here?" It wasn't terror that struck me, just disbelief. Wasn't this why I paid $1300 for two small sections of fence?! I was up and off, with Nick close behind, sprinting down various streets in the West End, shouting HUNTER! THEO! I asked people along the way if they had seen a couple of Mutt and Jeff dogs scampering about and they only looked back with pity. I purposely stayed on our side of State Street, the major three lane artery carrying all the traffic from Portland over the Casco Bay Bridge to South Portland -- its cars move with a sense of unimpeded urgency -- just their constant stream would keep any unleashed dog from trying to cross, I was sure.
After about ten minutes, I stopped back at my house to grab my cellphone and there it was -- a blinking light on my voice mail. It appeared the $2 tag on Theo's collar had been a better investment than the fence. I listened to a young woman named Annie report she had a dog on her front steps with this phone number around his neck. When I called her back, she reported Hunter was there too -- thankfully the partners in crime had stuck together. And where were they? I'm sure you can guess. Not only on the other side of State Street, but on the other side of High, the equivalent "vein" taking all the traffic out of South Portland from the bridge back into the city. Somehow the two of them had managed to cross all six lanes of bustling cars without getting a mark on them. I like to imagine one looked out for the other, making sure neither got hit, but probably it was just patient drivers who really did brake for the animals in front of them.
I arrived at the address Annie provided a few minutes later on foot with Nick showing up simultaneously in his truck. We found three smiling and obviously dog-loving twenty-something women sitting on the granite steps of their apartment house petting the two canine pals. The women had brought down a giant bowl of water that the dogs had indulged in -- the excitement of their journey had gotten them a little tired and thirsty, I guess. I'm sure they would have been just as happy to hang out there with their new human friends but we said our profuse thank yous quickly and ferried them on their way, Theo walking home with me, Hunter riding back in the truck. The time had come to split up the perpetrators, to end the caper, to get dogs and humans back home safe, sound, and relieved.
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